


Against the Wall

by TaraLaurel1



Series: Against the Odds [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bromance, Case Fic, Crime, Crimes & Criminals, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt Reid, Hurt Spencer, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapped Morgan, Kidnapped Reid, Kidnapping, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 43,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaraLaurel1/pseuds/TaraLaurel1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Insanity. Some people are born with it..Others, though, are pushed to it." A kidnapped girl manages to call a radio station for help. The investigation will lead to shocking results, bring up past demons for one BAU member & risk 2 members lives...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wrote this several years ago, so Emily and JJ are still in their old roles. Set around Season 5 then.

Insanity. Some people are born with it; it's simply in their genes. Others, though, are pushed to it. Laurie Bridges had sworn to her parents as a toddler that she would go crazy if she was forced to share her toys. She claimed she would go mad in her teenage years if her curfew was before midnight. She vehemently declared that she would go absolutely mental if she had to sit through one of her Psychology teacher's droning lectures one more time. Laurie Bridges had no idea what insanity truly was.

She was starting to.

Each day, the walls around her closed tighter and tighter. Each day, the air grew more stale, filling her dry mouth and nose. Each time she awoke, Laurie ran her trembling fingers over her cracked lips. Her red-stained fingertips became moist and she winced. Chapped lips though, were the least of Laurie's worries. The reason they had become so far parched was a far greater dilemma. At the very thought, her stomach churned and her mouth attempted to wet itself with saliva that was no longer there to no avail. She had lost count of the hours, or had it turned to days? Either she was unconscious from exhaustion and starvation or praying and desperately fighting for a way out of the entrapment. Her first time in this terrible darkness, Laurie would say an unspoken prayer as she felt herself slipping away to sleep, begging to die before she could awake. She imagined that dying in her sleep would relieve her from the torture. This time, though, there existed a new part of her that kept going. Somehow, somewhere, a piece of her would not give up. Laurie did not know if she was grateful for it or loathed it. That piece, that spark; was her family. Somewhere, outside of the darkness she was trapped in, the last person on earth she truly loved with all of her being, was experiencing equal, if not greater peril. She refused to allow herself to imagine the possibilities.

When she had first been thrown into her confinement, she lashed out and pounded aggressively at the walls, ceiling, and door. Her screams were guttural, almost animalistic. She had been enraged, but coating all of that uncontrollable fury, was panic. The angry shouts and demands gradually devolved to tear-filled pleadings. She hated beginning the same person who had imprisoned her but was at her most desperate after what she had just experienced. Her body was still weak from the ordeal and the beating, but her emotions and adrenaline took over and fueled her for some time.

By now, her voice was hoarse, nothing more than a mouse's whisper, but still she begged in vain. Feebly, Laurie scratched and beat at the door. The soft contact of her limp fist again the metal barely made an audible noise. Nearly all anger and all energy had escaped her as she lowered her arm and leaned her head back against the wall. The only thing left in her, were tears. They came slowly and painfully, stinging as they dripped against her lips and slid across her scratches that decorated her face. It was not long before they too ceased and she had no more tears left in her to cry.

Just as she was about to permit sleep to overtake her yet again, there was a deep clanging sound that rang out and suddenly light rushed into her small space. It was not bright like when you open a window in the morning, but a dim glow that at least allowed Laurie to see something besides black. For a solitary moment, Laurie allowed herself to hope. Her heart fluttered and her breath came in deeply as she slowly looked up to view her savior. Instead, a tall and familiar figure loomed over her in a commanding stance.

"There," he spoke in a deep and uncommonly calm voice, "have we learned our lesson now?"


	2. Familiar

"Looks like we got a request coming in here, hello, who –"

"Please, help me." The girl's voice was frail and dripping fear. It quivered with each syllable and remained soft, as a strained whisper.

"Who is this?"

"My name is Laurie - Laurie Bridges. I was kidnapped. Please, you have to help me."

"Laurie, where are you?"

"I don't know – I don't know where I am. No windows. No light. Nothing – I'm nothing – please, help – He - he just killed somebody, please."

"Who's 'he'?"

"He – he hurts me, punishes me. He does things to me – made me –" Laurie cut herself off, caught up in her own words and emotions. "He makes me –" She paused again, a gunshot sounding in the distance. The girl let out a gasp and continued. "They're dead – they're dead. He's coming. Please, help me."

JJ clicked a button to stop the recording, returned the screen to the previous photograph of a young girl, and turned to face her fellow team members.

"The call was made Friday afternoon around 6:32 p.m." She began.

"And Laurie Bridges went missing in August of 2009?" Emily questioned.

"Correct." JJ confirmed. "Just about one year ago."

"A year," Reid observed, "definitely breaks the typical mold. 90% of all those abducted don't survive past the first 36 hours."

"When she first disappeared," JJ continued, "the local police said she was a runaway. She did have a record of petty theft and truancy. She was suspended for two weeks before she was transferred to a private school in a different part of town."

"In Dinsdale, Virginia," Morgan shook his head in disbelief. "She disappeared less than half a state away from here."

"Laurie Bridges," Reid sighed, "why does that name sound so familiar?"

"Probably because you've heard it before," JJ revealed. "A few months after Laurie changed schools, it appeared she began to turn her life around. She didn't cut class, she started going to a local church even. She had just started really getting involved with the church when she disappeared. The members weren't too happy when the police wouldn't even investigate the disappearance because of her past record. A lot of the locals didn't believe she had changed."

"What about her parents in all of this?" Morgan questioned.

"Laurie's parents died in a car crash when she was just an infant." JJ pulled a new photograph on the screen illustrating the obituary of two married adults. "She's lived in several different cities, in various orphanages and foster homes since then. Her foster parents were the ones that made the switch to the private school." Again, JJ altered the screen to portray a new set of parents. "They too weren't convinced of Laurie's new ways and accepted the theory of her running away. This is probably where you've heard the name before. The missing person's report wasn't even filed by them until the youth pastor at Laurie's church paid them a visit and claimed that he would do it himself. The church contacted all sorts of media in response to this. They insisted that something must be done and they also not only challenged the police, but also the foster parents. The church members claimed that the foster parents merely switched the schools in hopes that their name would no longer be embarrassed in the community. The whole thing made some pretty big headlines, but no one came forward with any evidence or information –"

"Until now." Hotch declared.

"I'd say a direct plea of help from the victim is some pretty serious evidence." Emily noted.

"The call was made from a cell phone with a number owned by seventeen year old Shawn Summers. He was last seen with his girlfriend, Abby Decker heading out of Dinsdale. These two are also missing. Apparently there was an altercation between Shawn Summers and his father, Hank Summers about the girlfriend and ended with Shawn stealing his father's truck. Not long after that, Shawn and Abby were seen together robbing a gas station on their way out of town. This is the surveillance video of them. Less than an hour later, Laurie Bridges made her phone call."

"So we know she's being held somewhere close to home." Hotch observed.

"Has there been any more activity on that phone?" Emily wondered.

"Not since that call."

"How about any reports of gunshots during the time of the phone call?" Rossi suggested.

"None," JJ replied.

"The call has created quite a stir already." JJ explained. "The local police's official response to the press is that due to the closeness in proximity to the one year anniversary of Laurie's alleged disappearance, the call was either some sort of cruel joke or staged performance to get them involved."

"Which is quite possible," Hotch stated, "but it shouldn't simply be ignored."

"With all the attention this case is getting from the media, the Bureau wants this resolved as quickly as possible." JJ advised.

"So, why now? Why a radio station? Why wouldn't she call 911?" Morgan brought up.

"Maybe this was the first time she could gain access to a telephone." JJ suggested.

"She could have just panicked," Prentiss added, "dialed a set of indiscriminate numbers –"

"– or a number that she routinely had dialed and simply called it out of habit, not even thinking about what she was doing. The man on the radio almost sounds as if he knows her." Reid offered.

"Where was she last seen?" Rossi questioned.

"Laurie Bridges was last seen walking home from school. According to the missing person report, her foster mother was supposed to pick her up from soccer practice, but got a flat tire." JJ said, pulling a picture of the school onto the screen.

"Alright," Hotch spoke up, "let's get moving. Who knows what people are doing in response to this."


	3. Unwelcome Guests

Hotch and Rossi arrived at the undersized and undermanned police station and knew immediately that their presence was not one that was highly welcomed. It was difficult to imagine that a place that was located so close to the BAU headquarters seemed so very far away in mentality. The glances and indirect eye contact spoke volumes by themselves. As busy as everyone in the station was, it was as if they all sensed at once when the agents entered. One officer walked by, pushing along a gruff and cursing man who carried the odor of mold and rotting eggs. Another mean looking individual sat on a chair against the wall in a pair of handcuffs. The man remained slouched forward, his bald head reflecting the ceiling lights. His body nearly stretched over two chairs as their flimsy legs trembled underneath the pressure. Next to him sat two scantily and promiscuously clad slender females. The blonde wore opaque black tights with a crimson mini skirt while the redhead next to her chose purple fishnets and dark dress. White flyers decorated the wall above their heads, young faces looking back at the agents; Young faces that would most likely never be seen again. Hotch and Rossi had barely taken two steps inside the doors when an average size male with large broad shoulders began to approach them, those same shoulders pushed back with a straightened and assertive stance. Before he reached them, a petite dark skinned woman cut him off, a stack of small pieces of paper in her hands.

"Not more," the man sighed.

"I'm sorry sir," the black haired woman shrugged, "this is the third time the paper has called for a comment on the Laurie Bridges phone call. I've also got more messages here for you from Channel Eight News and the local chapter of Youth in Crisis."

"Just tell them the same thing I've told everyone else. You have that letter I gave you."

"Of course, sir."

The woman hurriedly shuffled away and the man finished his short walk to where the agents stood. He greeted them briefly and both agents noted the lack of an offered handshake. Leading them back into his office, they again could feel the stares and feelings of discontent. Bringing the FBI in on a case versus them simply stepping in and taking over with force were two different things entirely. It was a large cut to the ego for the members of the police force. Some of the officers didn't want to be told they couldn't do something on their own and imagined that because the FBI was taking over, it meant somehow that they weren't good enough, weren't good cops even. Needless to say, these weren't emotions and thoughts a group of strong individuals like members of the police department enjoyed feeling.

"Look, I appreciate you coming here, but there is nothing to investigate." The man said once behind closed doors.

"I think we will make that determination, Captain." Hotch replied firmly.

"The call was distorted, untraceable –"

"And it just happened to be to a local radio station in this town, the same town that Laurie Bridges disappeared from. Oh and was made from a cell phone by a seventeen year old kid from this town who is now also missing." Rossi interrupted.

"Shawn Summers left his father's truck on the side of the road and stole a car ten minutes after he robbed the gas station. He probably ditched the phone too. He knew how not to get caught. That kid's been in juvie for more time than he's been out of it. Those two are probably in a different state by now. They're missing because they don't want to be found. Not to mention that Laurie Bridges was a runaway." The captain sighed. "She skipped school, even had a record. It was only a matter of time before she ran. Ask anyone."

"How about I ask her friends at Grace Fellowship? They seem to think otherwise." Rossi countered.

"Laurie was forced to do community service to be able to graduate and avoid time in lockup after vandalizing the school gym and causing a good chunk of change worth of damage. She volunteered at that place only because she had to and she was told she needed to have a good attitude about it. If she caused any trouble at all, she'd have a hefty fine and a future without a high school diploma to look forward to. Those folks at that church have a soup kitchen and hold youth rallies. They always want to see the best in people, which around here can be hard to find. I'm telling you, the person that they saw, was just a show put on by a desperate girl who had a talent for lying."

There was a shared pause for a moment until the captain nodded at his desk.

"Do you have any idea how many missing persons reports are filed every day at this station? Most of them are from parents of runaways, and they are in fact, true runaways. Do you either of you know how many drug busts my team is working on right now, at this moment? Take a look at this." He handed Hotch an open folder. "In the south side of this city alone, there is a rape two days, a murder every two weeks. My people can't keep up."

"We understand your frustration and how overwhelmed you are," Hotch replied, "but you need to understand –"

"No, you need to understand that I am not distracting my men with some teenage girl who decided to runaway and some prank call to a radio station. We're already dealing with countless emails and letters in regards to the chaos that this church is causing, including kids who find it fun to call and say they killed her just to get the attention. I'm sorry that she did what she did, but I have more important things to worry about."

"Look," Hotch started, "we're doing this investigation with or without your support. If any new information comes up, we will let you know, and your men will be able to make the arrest. As for the rest, my agents are already out in your city investigating. You can help, or you can get out of our way."


	4. A Good Kid

The building was minute and square, and about the size of a 1 and a half stall garage. The sign on the outside leaned to one side and failed to remain fully lit for longer than five seconds. It would flicker for quite some time and then stay steady again for another few seconds. Its brick walls served as a home for snaking and twisting vines. They crawled diligently up all four sides and ensnared the building, as if it was desperately attempting to pull it down into the ground to join it. In the small window that decorated the front of the building was a diminutive but proud window sticker of a cross, set beside a missing poster for Laurie Bridges. The two agents shared a glance at the frayed flyer. Prentiss eyed the structure meticulously, her eyes following its cracks.

"What do you think?" She questioned as Morgan lowered his sunglasses.

"Ten bucks says it collapses when we go inside."

"Oh, that's a lovely thought. Thank you for the reassurance."

The two entered and were not sure they preferred the inside or the outside of the building. Once through the door, there existed an exceedingly narrow hall with two doors on the right side and only one on the left. In place of a second door on the left was positioned a rectangular window into a small room. Across from the plate of glass on the other hallway wall hung various posters and pieces of paper. One half was decorated with fun and colorful posters of artists, bands and upcoming events. The other side remained far more depressing as it portrayed an array of missing flyers of various people, mostly teenagers. Morgan stared into the expressions of the numerous children and young adults that almost blended together with the countless faces that he looked at every day. Their eyes seemed to call out to him, to plead with him. The agents continued to examine the area as they walked forward. The navy carpeting peeled at edges where it met the walls and was decorated with various dark stains. Cracks that resembled those on the outside of the structure adorned the indoor walls. Morgan and Prentiss stared in at the young male who sat behind the glass and spoke energetically into the large microphone in front of him. He glanced up at the two only for a brief moment of recognition as he finished his piece. Pushing a button, the man slid off his headphones and quickly stood, waving the agents to come in.

"What can I help you folks with?" He asked as they entered his cramped studio room.

"My name is Agent Prentiss, this is Agent Morgan; we're with the FBI. We're here about the call you received last Friday afternoon from a Laurie Bridges. We would like to speak to whoever was working during that time."

"That would be me," The man replied with a far more sober expression than the one he had just previously held while on the air, "I'm Brian Lawson. I own and manage the station and I'm on the air every weekday afternoon."

"You sound like a busy man." Morgan complimented.

"Well, we're a very small station, as you can see. We do what we can with what we can, you know. Everything is pretty much volunteer run from the church that pays for this building to the people like me on the air."

"What church sponsors you, Mr. Lawson?" Morgan questioned.

"Grace Fellowship, over on 8th."

"Grace Fellowship," Prentiss repeated, "as in the same church Laurie Bridges attended."

"Yes," the man confirmed. "Most of the people who volunteer here go there, including myself."

"So you knew Laurie?" Prentiss assumed.

"Yes ma'am, very well. She volunteered here every chance she could get, cleaning, doing paperwork; I even let her go on air a couple of times. She was real good at it too. She wanted to be a DJ. A good kid."

"So you don't agree that she ran away then?" Prentiss assumed again.

"Not a chance. Sure, Laurie had her problems, there's no hiding that. But she was getting better. Oh, at first she hated going to the church and doing the work, but after awhile things were different, she was different. She was happy. She was finally letting go of all that anger. I mean, you lose your parents and then get shuffled around from house to house like luggage and see how you feel. She came to help out whenever she could and called in to request songs when she couldn't. She started talking about going to school for radio, so she could help other people like her."

As he spoke, two youth who appeared to be no older than eighteen entered the room. They both wore solemn expressions and waited respectfully to be admitted to the conversation.

"This is Andrea and Rachel Gibson. Ever since the phone call, we've almost been, I don't know, re-inspired. After a year, you know, we sort of began to lose hope. People come here or to the church to pick up flyers and pass them out around town."

"Were you two close with Laurie?" Emily turned to the girls.

"No," the brunette with glasses named Andrea spoke softly as she shook her head, "Our dad, he was with the police. He worked missing person's cases. He – He would've wanted us to help."

"You girls aren't going off alone with these, are you?" Brian questioned.

"They're for the outreach tonight at church," Rachel assured.

Brian handed the two teenagers stacks of flyers and they both quietly left.

"Poor kids," he sighed after they were gone, "Robert was a good guy, even went to our church. He really cared for everyone in this city. He never let the job make him cold."

"What happened to him?" Morgan wondered aloud.

"He was shot and killed during a gas station robbery about three years ago. Too many people die or go missing in this city, agents. Just too many. The majority of our members that come from this side of town have lost someone to the streets or worse. Then when they wouldn't even look for Laurie – I guess we all finally figured we needed to do something more. We open up the church every weeknight for kids with nowhere else to go. We don't have much to offer them, but it's warm enough and it's safer than the streets. We've doubled our mentors in our youth programs. Students know that if they need anything; a ride home, even if it's from a party, someone to talk to, anything, they have a mentor they can call. And we broadcast and distribute flyers, not just for Laurie, but for other missing children and teenagers too."

"Mr. Lawson," Morgan began, "we understand that your station and church have been going to the media with this."

"Of course we have." Brian stated affirmatively. "The police are doing nothing and –"

"We need you to stop." Morgan interrupted sternly but with a sympathetic undertone.

"What?"

"We don't know yet who took Laurie or why. It's possible that all this attention is giving him exactly what he wants or, well, or it could spook him, make him panic. We can't let him know that the FBI is involved or that people are looking for her."

"I don't understand."

"I know it doesn't make sense, but you have got to trust us. We are asking this to protect Laurie."

"It won't be easy convincing her friends and the church." Brian lamented.

"Just tell them what I told you; that it is to protect Laurie. It's very important."

Brian nodded somberly.

"Mr. Lawson," Prentiss began, "Do you know anyone that would have wanted to harm Laurie?"

"No, not really," He sighed. "I mean, there were people from her old life that weren't happy when she changed."

"What do you mean?"

"Just old friends, if that's what you could call them. They were all talk. They stopped by and hassled Laurie for her community service. At first, she went along with it, but when she changed, she told them to back off. They said a few choice words and made a few empty threats, and then walked out and never came back. Then there was, well, her dealer."

"Laurie did drugs?"

"Not heavily like some of the kids you see, but yeah."

"That wasn't in the police report."

"She was never caught. Once the two of us became close, she told me that she smoked pot. We helped her get clean. Some of us have lived that life ourselves and understood. After she stopped buying, this guy, her dealer, he, he roughed her up a bit. A couple scratches, nothing too bad. Laurie hadn't worked her way into the really bad crowd yet. She was lucky. A lot of kids around here just sink deeper into the lifestyle until they think there's no way out. One of our boys got stabbed in the leg by his ex-dealer when he walked away from the life. I told the police about the guy, but I only had a few of the friends' and the dealers' first name and no evidence. They might not even have been their real names for all I know. The cop I spoke with just said it added to their theory of her running away instead of helping our cause. We get a couple of people to ask around here and there, but we're not the police. No one would talk to us and it's not like we had guns or protection."

"Could you give us the names and descriptions please?"

"I only remember two names of her friends. Nikki something. She was quiet, always sort of stood towards the back of the group, like she was afraid or something. A heavy drug user, you could just tell. Uh, she was white, short blonde hair, maybe around 5'5". Nose piercing I think. The other girl, what was her name, Sunny. But I think that they just called her that because of her tattoo."

"What did this tattoo look like?"

"A sun, on her neck, but it was deformed, melting. It had blood on it."

"Lovely." Emily remarked.

"What else do you remember about her?" Morgan continued.

"She was white. Dark brown hair, long, past her shoulders. They were all from Laurie's old school on the this side of town. They did drugs, went to parties, vandalized, stole stupid stuff like makeup and once and awhile alcohol. They never hurt anyone or anything like that. That's all I know about them."

"And this dealer?"

"I never saw him. Said his name was Drake, that he was related to one of the boys in her school. She didn't give me a description. Just said he was older. That's all, I'm sorry."

"Thank you for your time Mr. Lawson," Emily said with a soft and sympathetic smile.

"Do you – do you think you'll find her?"

The two agents neglected to answer for a moment and rested in the silence.

"We'll do our best," Morgan nodded and turned to leave with Prentiss following.

"We better call Garcia," Prentiss advised, "These police aren't going to want to help us find these three."

"Looks like Reid was right," Morgan commented as they walked back to their vehicle.

"When is he not?" Prentiss remarked. "Well, except for when it comes to pop culture references. But, what do you mean?"

"Laurie called this number in a panic, out of habit."

"What scares someone so much that they can't even think straight to dial 911?" Prentiss asked, somewhat not wanting to know the answer behind her inquiry.

"Let's just hope he's right about the profile he's been working on too." Morgan replied.


	5. The Ridgeway

"How'd you do, kid?" Morgan questioned his friend as he took a seat in the precinct.

He glanced up at the large and overcrowded board that rested behind Reid. An unfolded paper map of the city hung from several pins and appeared to be decorated with red markings. Laurie's senior picture hung next to that and Morgan let his eyes rest on it for a moment. Her eyes danced with life and her small smile appeared to be far more filled with joy than the widest grin. Below that, was yet another picture of their missing girl. In this photograph she neglected to reveal any emotion with her lips at all. Her body was only partially turned towards the camera and she possessed a curious gaze. It was as if Morgan was looking at images of two entirely different people. The one, wore a lavender colored top, while the other dressed all in black. In the lower picture, the girl's dark hair also was decorated with thin violet streaks. One thing had not changed. Everyone on the team had gone through something at one point or another so tragic, so difficult, that they had to labor extensively to move on, change or start over. Laurie had taken that fall and had discovered rock bottom. She had climbed up the side of the hole and was just starting to emerge, to start over, and all this happened to her.

"With one phone call and no leads, why, you should have it all figured out by now." Prentiss teased.

"Would you like me to contact the press with the profile?" JJ turned to Hotch.

"No," He replied with a sigh, "I want to stick with my gut on this one. Something just tells me to keep this investigation quiet."

"Well, we know for sure the unsub is a male." Reid began. "In the phone call, Laurie Bridges refers to her captor as 'he'." He proceeded to give the team a brief description of the man's most likely age, skin color, and appearance."

"Considering her age, he's probably someone with good social skills, able to coerce a coherent teenager" Hotch presumed.

"Or possesses a good amount of upper body strength. You don't think this could've been a blitz attack, grabbed her from behind?" Morgan added.

"He's kept her alive for a little over a year. There's some bigger idea, bigger plan behind this. He had some sort of predetermined reason to take her. He thought about it extensively and had to have had an organized plan, which means he possesses some level of intelligence, making it unnecessary for him to perform a blitz attack."

"Now, no one saw Laurie outside of the school parking lot." Reid continued. "Laurie's foster parents sent her to a private high school after she was taken to court for vandalizing her old school's gymnasium. The private school is on the north side of town here and entirely encased in an affluent neighborhood; it circles the area for miles until the river." Reid illustrated on a map. "Locals call it 'The Ridgway'. It basically separates the two upper and lower halves of the city, both in their northern and southern positions, but also upper and lower class as well. Like a modern day East and West Egg of the Great Gatsby. Now, Laurie's record shows that she attempted to skip when she was first transferred but even she had a difficult time doing so without getting caught with the surrounding neighbors and school security."

"So if someone suspicious was hanging around the school, he would have been noticed." Rossi assumed.

"Right." Reid answered. "It's likely that this man fit in, he dressed properly and drove a nicer vehicle. It's not just the school too. The entire neighborhood is pretty wary of outsiders. Local police reports indicate that when Rodney Jones, an African American electrician, came to work at one of the houses while the residents were at work, three of the neighbors called suspecting him to be a criminal within the hour. Our unsub definitely didn't stand out."

"So, you think maybe he just offered her a ride home or something?" JJ questioned.

"You'd think that, but after looking at Laurie's record, she's street smart. She may have changed for the better, but she would be guarded enough not to get into a vehicle with a stranger. Also, Laurie was truant. Even though it proved more difficult at her new school, Laurie still had succeeded in skipping school there many times. She probably had that neighborhood memorized, streets, the nearest fast food restaurant, everything –"

"She would be completely comfortable walking home alone." Morgan finished.

"I've mapped out the most likely routes home Laurie would have taken here." Reid again referred to the map. "Each one of them poses a challenge to a possible kidnapper as houses line each street. There is only one secluded spot that our unsub would have had his opportunity. Here, Wilder Park. It's right before the river. Laurie would have had to walk past it to get home on the other side of town."

"Let's check it out," Rossi nodded to Reid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: anyone get the little reference in the title?


	6. Play the Victim

As Reid stepped out of the vehicle and pulled off his sunglasses, he, for a moment, imagined they had arrived at the wrong place. The equipment was top-quality, as he had expected, but the entire park contradicted itself. The grass grew up and wrapped around the base of the bright ruby swing set. The metal glimmered in the sunlight brilliantly but as Reid lowered his eyes he found more rust at the base of the play sets than paint. Weeds decorated the ground in the patches where grass still existed. In other desolate areas there was only dirt. The air was still, the leaves of the towering trees at rest and in tact for the time being. Several bottles laid strewn underneath the slide and monkey bars. Cigarette butts were more frequently found than flowers. Reid made his way to the wooden benches that were chained to the ground and told carved stories of "Jake loves Kate", "School Sux", and an overabundance of vulgar terms and phrases.

"This is –" Reid fumbled to finish his thoughts.

"Unexpected." Rossi finished for him and then paused before speaking again. "So this is about the time Laurie would have been walking by. The bridge is to the North and she would have been coming from the South, from over there."

"The closest house is a block away," Reid motioned, "and the walking trail of the park extends into the field across the street and then on behind the neighborhood. It was secluded but he had to know that someone could have come by at any moment. He probably still had an upscale vehicle, but big enough to throw a girl into.

"Okay," Rossi began, "so I'm the unsub. I could park in the lot, but then I would have had to subdue her and get her back over to my vehicle before anyone would notice." He paused and glanced around. "It's more likely that he parked along the side of the road and waited for her."

"But she's smarter than that." Reid added. "She wouldn't walk right next to it if she saw him sitting in the driver's seat; she'd cross to the other side of the street. And if I go after her or pull up to her, she's going to be guarded or run."

"I need to get her to come to me, willingly." Rossi agreed. "It has to be her idea. I've watched her, studied her patterns, I know when and where to be, so I will know her mannerisms, her tendencies." He paused for a moment to think and then locked eyes with Reid. "I'd play the victim.

"Psychologically, people's own defenses and self-awareness go down when they see someone in trouble." Reid added. "She goes over to help him and that's when he subdues her, no lengthy struggle, no witnesses."

"Maybe not necessarily," Rossi said in a distracted tone as he stared off to the edge of the park where a young couple emerged from the wooded trail. They matched each other's pace and stayed close. The woman wore crimson running shorts with a matching top while what appeared to be her husband had long black track pants and a sleeveless constricting white t-shirt. Both outfits appeared expensive and quality material. They were definitely from the North neighborhood. As they grew near, Rossi approached them with Reid at his heels. He introduced himself and they apprehensively agreed to answer his questions.

"How often do you two take this trail?"

"Almost every afternoon." The woman who had introduced herself as Michelle replied. "We get off of work at the same time and come here."

"So you're here around this time every night?"

"Just about." She shrugged.

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Since we moved here," the husband named Paul replied in a suspicious manner, "two years ago."

"Did either of you ever notice anything strange around this park," Rossi continued, looking around, "anything that seemed out of the ordinary?"

"What is this about anyway?" Paul spoke up. "What's going on exactly?"

Rossi reluctantly and vaguely explained the situation and the husband suddenly became far more agreeable.

"Wait," the woman said with a curious glance, "you say she went missing in March of 2009? That was shortly after we started taking our walks here. I do remember something weird. There was a man, like a businessman or something. He owned a dark blue, oh, what was it Paul?"

"It was like an SUV or something, but you were probably just being paranoid."

"No, I wasn't. You and I both lived in the big city long enough to tell paranoia from the norm, Paul. I told you I had a weird feeling about that guy!"

"He was just a guy," the husband sighed, "he probably lived in the neighborhood."

"What did this man do, exactly?" Rossi interrupted the marital spat.

"Nothing," the woman replied, "that was just it. He just sat in the parking lot, for days, maybe weeks, sometimes he just drove by slowly, like he was looking for someone."

"Or waiting" Reid mumbled.

"One day he just wasn't there anymore and I guess I just didn't think anything of it, but I never forgot it because of the weird feeling it always gave me when we went by."

Rossi invited the couple to join them back at the station to describe what they saw to a sketch artist and they both consented.

"Can I just ask one thing?" Reid suddenly turned back as they headed to the vehicle. "Why is it like this, the park?"

"Hardly anyone from this neighborhood comes here anymore." Paul explained. "It's too close to the river. People, kids, from the south side of town come here at night and party. We both moved here from Chicago. Some punk kids and graffiti don't scare us away."


	7. Taken

Laurie lay helplessly on the cold ground. Her body was drained off all energy, all emotion. Every inch of her feeble body ached terribly with her nerves and muscles pulsing in pure agony. She reached up to the door, but her arm could hardly lift itself off the floor. With a labored groan, she let it fall and her head did the same. Her cheek collided against the cool cement and the memories rushed back to her.

_"Please," she sobbed as the man she spoke to neglected to even look at her. "Can I see him? Can I hold him? Please!"_

_Her tears turned into wild and animalistic screams as the man turned from her in silence and began slowly walking away, the small and writhing infant in his grasp. Her breathing quickened and her relentless tears caught in her hoarse throat, blocking her screams. In a fit of rage, Laurie tugged violently at her wrist restraints. They merely further chaffed and mocked her as she did so. She then turned to her legs, pulling and kicking. Her ankles still remained locked in position. She thrashed about, gritting her teeth to somehow bear the torment. The struggling and violent squirming continued until her body could no longer manage the strain. Her energy depleted, she lay on the bed limp and motionless. As she did so, an invisible heavy weight began to pull itself over Laurie's head. It covered her body and surrounded every part of her. It slowed her breathing and pushed down on her weak eyelids. Suddenly, she threw her eyes open and began letting them dart around the room._

_"No," she mumbled in a scratchy and barely audible voice, "no, no, no."_

_As she spoke, her voice slowly left her for exhaustion and all that formed were gravelly coughs and squeals. She wheezed, continuing to follow the bland walls with her tired eyes. It was the one thing she had left, the one last thing she could attempt to control. Her body and her freedom now belonged to another man and he had taken everything he could from both of those things. She could not die, for she had begged him to simply kill her and be done on more than several occasions and he refused to grant the wishes. Her meals, or lack there of, were of his choosing. She was merely a puppet, a slave doll. She had this one part of her left that she could take charge of though; this one last piece of hope. Still, the exhaustion continued to struggle for victory over her. She dutifully scanned the bare walls of her confines. She let herself follow the cracks and imagine what sort of great event caused them. She dreamed of an earthquake and pictured herself being held somewhere in California. Then she defined them as the work of an unstable, unsupportive land. She envisioned her prison located in the swamps of some rainforest or southern bayou._

_"Maybe it will break apart," Laurie thought in her drained delirium. "The structure will crack and break and I will be free."_

_As she was imagining this insanity, her wandering eyes fell upon the overwhelmingly bright yellow light looming above her head. Laurie's eyes fluttered at the sudden burst of direct light into the pupils. It hung above her, ridiculing her as she merely laid there like a defeated animal. As she continued to stare into the glowing bulb, her eyelids grew heavier with each moment. It wasn't long before she involuntarily relinquished control over to her pleading body and embraced the darkness._

She was not sure if the physical, emotional, or mental pain ached the most as she recovered from the undesired memory. At first, she imagined it all been a horrible nightmare. She yearned for it to be just a dream. In her heart, Laurie knew differently though. In a daze, Laurie glanced around. The tools and the awful bed were both nowhere to be seen. In fact, she was in an entirely different place altogether. She was back, back in her living quarters.

"No," she whimpered just as she had in the memory.

And then it all rushed back to her; the memories, the laboring pain, the entrapment soon afterward in the darkness. Trembling with fear and pain, Laurie used her frail elbows to prop her upper body up and then pressed her palms against the ground to do the rest. She remained on her knees, her back straight and her head aimed high at the ceiling. Her voice came in hoarse hiccups at first as it regained its strength.

"Where are you? Where are you? What did you do with him?" She paused and then repeated herself again, "him." Laurie sighed, horrifically realizing that she did not even know the gender of the newborn. "I guess I think you're a boy," she lamented to the absent child. "Please, don't hurt him!" She screamed with a sudden burst of strength. "Don't you hurt him! Please! What are you doing up there, huh? Talk to me! Let me see him! Please. Please, just don't hurt him."

Laurie waited but merely received a response of silence. She sat there for several painstaking moments, simply staring up where she could hear the creaking of floorboards. Her capture loomed right above her head and yet seemed so very far away. Laurie had been taken far away from everyone and everything, and now that included her child.


	8. Old Friends

"Talk to me baby girl," Morgan said to Garcia as he drove through the downtown streets to the school. "All we got are some vague descriptions and a bunch of people here not talking to us."

The search had not been the most delightful adventure the two agents had endeavored upon, but it certainly was not close to the worst. They went on their way to Laurie's first high school, but decided to ask a few people on the streets about this dealer along the way. It may have been a different city and a different run down neighborhood, but they were all the same; prostitutes and hookers far more concerned with being arrested than talking, drug dealers that ran at the site of a badge, homeless individuals that simply stopped caring years ago, and kids. Runaways and misguided youth either so afraid of their own shadow to speak or too arrogant to believe anything like what happened to Laurie could happen to them. Poverty is never something that is easy to look at or sometimes ever understand. The fact that merely a short ride away existed private schools and houses with nicer closets than these peoples' homes simply made it all the worse. While certain individuals curled up under heated blankets with expensive sheets, people nearly in their backyard were huddling up under newspaper and cardboard. While the only problem the wealthier individuals had to deal with for the night were the occasional nightmare which they could awake from; those on the streets lived through their own personal nightmares each night and day.

"Mystery girl number one, Nikki. Caucasian female, one nose piercing, blonde hair, age 16. Name, Nicole Martin. She went to the same school as Laurie until Laurie was transferred during her junior year. Her record consists of petty theft and some drug possession."

"You sure she's the right one?"

"Honey, you gave me three first names and hardly any description. I worked my magic and this is what it gave me. Now, if you're starting to doubt my powers –"

"I never doubt your powers."

"Damn straight. There were six other Nicole's that attended high school with Laurie. Only two of them have their nose pierced and only one of them is a blonde. I am sending the info to your PDA now."

"What about the other two?"

"Hey, like I told you, first names and hardly any description. My magic wand does not stretch that far sweetie."

"Thanks Garcia." He slid the phone back inside his jacket. "Let's just hope these girls aren't playing hooky today."

The school principal recognized the description of a sun tattoo immediately and the agents quickly came to learn the true identity of "Sunny", or Kaitlin Paulson. The principal saw her enough to have her text book thick file memorized. She carried with her a few suspensions, a continual record of truancy, several assault charges and two counts of arson.

"She set fire to the girl's first floor bathroom?" Prentiss read aloud.

"Threw a lit cigarette in the trash can and walked away." The principal explained. "That was the first suspension. These kids," he sighed as he glanced out the window into the bustling hall, "they think I'm some sort of hard-ass. Truth is, I should've expelled Kaitlin Paulson a long time ago. After what she's done, at any other school the parents would be forcing me to kick her out. Here, they just don't take notice or care, I guess. Well, I care. Damn it, I care a lot. We have entire groups of kids skipping class to smoke pot in the janitor's closet. I have teachers breaking up fights every time a bell rings; girls pulling each others' hair out, guys knocking each others' teeth out. A lot of them should be expelled, but then what? They go to their drunk or abusive parents or out on the streets. I did my time in the war, agents. I was just like these kids, poor, broken, wanting attention and willing to do anything to get it. I learned respect and discipline the hard way by watching my buddies die. I came here and all I saw at first was just a bunch of disrespectful troublemakers. I was tough, real tough on them. Then I realized, they're in a whole war of their own. They're trying to survive in broken homes. They're watching their friends get shot, beat up, hell, kidnapped. Laurie was one of those that I knew could do something more, be something more."

"Sir," Prentiss began, "would you know anyone in the school or in the area that might want to do this to Laurie?"

"I'm sorry, but no one in particular. In this city though, you're looking for a needle in a whole bunch of other needles."

"Can we have everything you have on Kaitlin Paulson and Nicole Martin?"

"Of course. Oh, and that Drake that you were looking for, I'm sorry but we don't have anyone in our system that would match who you're looking for. We have a sophomore female, Jamie Drake, only child. I wouldn't be surprised if he told those girls he was related to someone at the school to gain their trust."

The door creaked open and a petite, red-headed woman with rectangular glasses peered inside.

"Mr. Brooks, Kaitlin Paulson and Nicole Martin are here now."

"Thank you, Bonnie. Would you like me to have them sent in, agents?"

"Yes," Morgan nodded, "but separately, if you don't mind. Why don't you do most of the questioning?" Morgan turned to Emily. "Girls around here most likely have only been mistreated by men. I'd probably only represent a father or authoritative figure that they'll only resent."

Prentiss nodded and Kaitlin slipped in, looking the agents up and down slowly. Her eyes then rolled over to the principal.

"What's this?" She asked in an arrogant manner. "A little reinforcement? Can't handle me by yourself, Sergeant?"

"Sit down, Ms Paulson," the principal demanded in a deep tone.

"Nah," she shrugged, leaning against a file cabinet, "I'm good. Although, you are looking a little stressed out there Serge, maybe you need to sit."

"Take a seat, now, Ms Paulson," the principal's voice raised in volume and Morgan put up his hand to calm him.

"Oh, so you're taking orders from these two now? Who are you guys anyway?"

"FBI," Morgan stated firmly.

Kaitlin's posture visibly shifted and her eyes subtly glanced back at the door.

"I'm not speaking to no cops."

"We're not cops and we're not here about you or anything you've done." Morgan assured.

"We're here about Laurie Bridges." Emily began softly. "You knew her. We want to know about someone else you knew. Drake."

"Never heard of him."

"Are you sure, Kaitlin?" Emily questioned, stepping forward.

"It's Sunny and I never heard of him." Kaitlin hissed.

"Oh, okay. Do your cheeks always blush when talking about guys, or just Drake?"

"What are you talking about?"

"When he mentioned the name Drake, your voice heightened in pitch and your cheeks flushed. So, you want to tell me how long you two have been together?"

Kaitlin was silent for some time and simply shifted her footing slowly.

"Look," Prentiss started, "if you know something, it could help Laurie –"

"The only thing I know is that whatever Laurie got, she deserved. You don't just ditch your friends."

"So you were angry with her for the way she changed?" Emily questioned.

"Yeah, so what?"

The conversation continued with just about the same success rate for the rest of the interview. After Kaitlin stormed out dramatically, the principal buzzed for Nicole to be sent inside the office. The two agents exchanged glances, hopeful but doubting the following conversation would be different.


	9. Family

Laurie huddled in the corner of the basement, shivering and listening intently to the creaking movements of the floorboards above her. She had finally run out of tears and was left with dry sobs of sorrow, confusion and pain. She never imagined that she would become a parent, especially in such a way as this. She had watched her friends be tormented by their abusive father or drunken mother. She witnessed how even wealthy adults could be cruel and decent parents were spat on by their rebellious and self-absorbed children. She had experienced the lack of parental figures as she was tossed from one foster home to the next. By an early age, she had determined that bringing a child into the world was simply a cruel punishment for both the parent and the infant.

_"Let me go, Jim!"_

_"Don't you scream at me, woman!"_

_The sharp sound of the palm of a hand meeting skin made Laurie's shoulders twitch. She felt utterly useless as she simply stood outside the rundown and diminutive home. She had been instructed long ago to never go inside and merely wait for her friend at the end of the driveway. Still, the waiting was excruciating._

_"Where the hell do you think you're going, kid?"_

_"Out!"_

_"Don't you –"_

_"Don't touch me! Get off me!"_

_Laurie watched as her friend pushed open the front screen door and hurriedly stepped outside. Their eyes met just in time for the girl to choke back any tears. She shoved her hands in her sweatshirt pockets and jogged towards the on looking Laurie._

_"Nikki, are you okay?"_

_"I'm fine," she mumbled defiantly, "let's just go. Sunny's waiting."_

_Laurie stood in silence for several moments as Nicole began walking down the street. She simply stared into the broken home of her friend with penetrating eyes._

The horrific memories of her friends' and their parents flashed in Laurie's overcrowded mind. It was all she could do to not go completely insane. She had to turn her mind around, turn her heart around. She knew how easily she could slip back into her bitter and callous self. It was the façade she had molded around herself to protect her from all the pain, the loss. If she pretended like nothing hurt her, eventually it was like nothing did. But that internal isolation came with a price. She knew who she really was but still felt tempted to revert back into a shell.

_"No,"_ she thought to herself,  _"I can't. Not now."_

Laurie slammed her eyelids shut and desperately attempted to block out all the painful and terrifying thoughts and memories. She couldn't let herself focus on the negative of her past. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on what could happen to her.

Her chapped lips began to move slowly as Laurie distraughtly began to talk to the one person she knew she had left. She wasn't alone, not really. She had almost forgotten that, almost let that break her down. Her prayers were whispered and cracked, but persistent. She not only pleaded for herself, but also for her newborn child and then, her friends. She remembered how soothing it had been to hear the man's voice on the radio. It was not simply the fact of human contact, it was the voice of a friend, of hope. She let their smiling faces scroll through her mind and soon was finding different memories relating to family.

_"I can't, Laurie."_

_"Why not?"_

_"I just can't. You know why. My dad would kill me."_

_"It's just one dinner. Please, Nikki. Just come. They want to meet you. They're really nice people."_

_"They're parents. They can't be nice."_

_"But they are. I promise. How long has it been since you've had a good meal? I know you, Nikki. I know you're parents don't make you anything and you barely get by by yourself. I'm asking you, as a favor. Please, do this for me."_

_"One meal?" Nicole questioned sheepishly._

_"That's it. If you hate it, you never have to go again."_

_Nicole nodded and Laurie allowed a hidden smile to curl at the corners of her lips._

_The house was certainly not luxurious or generously proportioned like those on the North side of town, but it still possessed some sort of a different atmosphere than much of South side. The structure seemed to almost give off a sort of welcoming warmth. The lawn was properly mowed and weeded, small groups of purple and blue flowers lining the diminutive front porch. There were a few chips in the paint of the siding, but the white outside color of the house appeared, for the most part, well-maintained. The same could have been said for the porch as you could see small spots of the original wood shade every now and again. It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was far better to the sights Nicole had grown accustom to._

_As they approached, Nicole suddenly stopped. She had been examining the appearance of the house so diligently that she hadn't even noticed. As she stood in astonishment, Laurie turned around and cocked a curious eyebrow._

_"What is it?"_

_"It's so quiet."_

_Laurie turned back to the home and listened as well. Her friend was quite right. Laurie had simply began to grow used to the stillness. Ever since she had began to allow those at her new church to befriend her, she had started visiting them at their homes and joining them for meals or studies. Most of the congregation lived on the South side of town. Some resided in the more middle class section to the East, while many came from the middle of the downtown, south side chaos. There were even a few that owned extravagant homes on the North side, but only those few. It was quite a mix but Laurie eventually found that they all had something in common, some indescribable difference to the rest of the world that she knew. Sure, a lot of them still had problems. Some of the kids in the youth group went home to homes much like Nicole's. Some of the adults were dealing with marital problems, while some members struggled with drugs or alcohol. It was those church members that had saw Laurie through her painful detox and stood by her side and pushed her, even when sometimes she didn't want it, but needed it._

_The two girls approached the house and a young couple reached the screen door before they even fully ascended the porch steps._

_"Ah," The man began with a warm smile, "hello Laurie. And this must be Nicole?"_

_"Nikki" the girl mumbled, half nervous, half defiant._

_"I like Nikki," the man replied, unscathed by the remark. "I'm Brian. This is my wife, Julie. We're happy you could come."_

_Julie nodded and edged the girls inside with a gesture._

_"So," she began with a friendly grin, "Nikki, do you like meatloaf and spinach?"_

_Nicole furrowed her brows and twisted her tongue. The mentioned food items made her stomach twitch. She initially opened her mouth to vehemently complain, but then felt a twinge of guilt. It was odd. Any one of her friends besides Laurie would have spat at their kindness, insulted their home or cooking, or not even attended._

_"I didn't think so," Julie laughed, noting the girl's reaction. "That's why we're having whatever you want."_

_"Me?" Nicole's voice was barely audible and she backed away slightly._

_"That's the rule," Brian added. "Laurie got to pick her first time over here."_

_"I think it was pepperoni pizza and ice cream." Julie giggled._

_"What can I say?" Laurie smiled. "I'm not very creative."_

_Nicole frowned and stared down at her sneakers. She shuffled her feet against the wood floor and swished her mouth like she had gum._

_"I don't –" she started with a whisper and then cut herself off. "I can't."_

_Without another word, Nicole spun and thrust herself out the door and ambled down the front steps hurriedly. Laurie turned to follow but was caught by Brian's hand._

_"It's okay, Laurie. You didn't want to come here either."_

" _I seem to remember a broken dish or two while trying to get through to you." Julie added with raised eyebrows._

_Laurie feigned a smile at her mentor's attempt at humor._

_"Just give her time," Brian sighed. "You can't rush or force her, just like we couldn't with you."_

_"I sure was a pain," Laurie smiled, "wasn't I?"_

_"The biggest." Julie grinned._

Laurie smiled at the memory. Sure it was depressing as it demonstrated yet another failed attempt to help her friend, but that ending stuck with her. It was the closest thing she had to parents; two adults that looked out for her and cared for her. Her foster parents only worried about their name being drug through the mud by her poor life choices. These people, they were something special. They were what gave Laurie hope for families.

" _Family"_  she scoffed internally, still unable to remove the pressing anxiety from her mind.

She again cocked her head and stared up at the ceiling. It wouldn't be long now. He promised her that she could see him. She was going to hold her own baby. She wondered what sick game this man was playing. Was he going to let her see the infant, cradle him in her arms, and then whip him away just to torture her? She somehow didn't care. All she wanted was to know he was still alive, if her family was still alive.

 


	10. Humanity

The young girl was as Mr. Lawson had described her but far worse than the two imagined. Her skin was ghostly pale, even though all you could see was her face and hands. The rest was covered by dark layers of mismatched clothing. The dark circles underneath her eyes seemed to spread across her cheeks and she barely appeared to be awake. Her hair was certainly blonde, but it remained disheveled and knotted. She leaned back in the chair across from the principal's desk as if she was accustomed to it. Crossing her arms and bringing them up high on her chest, she glanced up at the two agents with shaky eyes. This was where humanity set in; the part of their job where their hearts still cared and were not yet turned to callous and solid stone over the years. It was what they saw in this girl's gaze that made them so determined to do this case instead of simply accept the easiest answer as the local police had retired to doing. That young girl had most likely experienced more than most women twice her age. Still, the years of maturing understanding could not mask the look of a frightened child that hid deep within her pupils.

"Nicole, these two are going to ask you some questions," the principal spoke commandingly, "and you're going to answer all of them truthfully."

Nicole simply shrugged wordlessly, her eyes averting direct contact.

"Nicole," Emily leaned forward, her tone remarkably softer than before, "you were friends with Laurie Bridges weren't you?"

She received an affirmative nod but nothing more.

"Nicole, when was the last time you saw Laurie?"

Again, there was no verbal response granted.

"Nicole, you can talk to us. We only want to help Laurie. Don't you want to help Laurie?"

"Of course I –", she shouted in a weak voice, "she – I –"her eyes became glossy and she turned her head away.

Nicole's body sunk lower into the seat and she pushed her sleeves up, rolling her shoulders and fidgeting with a few strands of hair. Anything to avoid the agent's questions.

"You're the youngest aren't you? In your group of friends, you're the youngest. Laurie took care of you in a way the others wouldn't. She protected you."

Emily made eye contact with her partner as Morgan nodded at the girl's arm.

"When did you start using heavier drugs?" Emily asked gently. "Was it when she changed schools? When she disappeared? We just want to get her back. We just want her to be safe. I think you do too. I also think you can help us do that, but you have to talk to us. When was the last time you saw Laurie?"

"A few days before she went missing," the girl whispered. "When I, when I use, it's different. I can fit in. Laurie, she, she wanted me to stop. She would still come to see me, you know, after she changed schools, just me." Her dark and far away eyes seemed to almost light up at the statement and she sat up in her seat slightly. "But, I, I couldn't stand the headaches anymore," she sighed, slumping back down. "I went back and got more, and she found me with him."

"With him?" Emily pressed.

"Our guy, our dealer. We had a fight. I was messed up, not myself." As she spoke, the memory played in the front of her mind as if on a film reel. She couldn't help but relive the moment.

_"Just stay away from me!"_

_"Nikki, please, just come with me. You don't have to do this. Believe me, I know how hard it is –"_

_"You don't know anything Laurie!" Nicole barely recognized her own raised voice as she never had yelled at Laurie, much less anyone else. "You left us. You left me. How could you do that? You were my friend."_

_"And I still am. I still see you, still talk to you, and I still want to help you."_

_"It's not the same, and you know it. Where were you last week when my dad –" she cut herself off, turning away._

_"What is it? What did he do to you this time?"_

_"It doesn't matter. Not anymore. All that matters is that you weren't there! Just leave me alone."_

_"Nicole –"_

_"She said, leave her alone." Drake finally stepped forward after having dealt with another young customer towards the back of the alleyway. "Steal my client, and I'll give you a lot more than a few bruises this time."_

_"Nicole, please–" Laurie took a step forward and was swiftly cut off by Drake._

_As he moved in front of her, Drake suddenly took a hold of her shoulders and pushed her down. Laurie tripped over her own legs and collided with the hard pavement. Nicole took a nervous step backwards. The Laurie that had befriended her would have never simply taken something like that. Nicole half expected Laurie to jump up and lunge at Drake or grab one of the broken glass bottles and threaten him with it. That had been what had saved them one of the first nights after Laurie had moved to the area._

_The two of them were walking together in the late evening when a senior they both recognized from school began following them closely. He whistled and moaned and let a few vulgar comments slip past his lips as they continued on. It wasn't until they reached a secluded spot by an old abandon gas station that the boy made his move. He rushed at Laurie and sent her flying to the ground. He then came at Nicole._

_"I hear you're pretty quiet," the boy had snickered, "maybe I can change that."_

_He grabbed her wrist and pushed her over violently against the side of the brick building, rubbing his body against hers._

_"I want to see just how loud you can get."_

_As he spoke, the crisp sound of glass shattering broke through the night air. The boy turned around to see Laurie presenting the jagged edge of a broken glass bottle at his face. It was just like what you would see in the movies, Nicole thought later on when she wasn't so terrified._

_"Get away from her or I swear I will cut you open."_

_The boy certainly trusted her and quickly hurried off. Nicole hadn't believed a word of her friend's threat, but simply smiled up at her with gratitude._

"Laurie would never really hurt anyone," Nicole confessed. "We weren't like that, I swear."

"What happened after Drake pushed Laurie down." Emily pressed.

"Nothing," Nicole sighed, looking down, "she didn't do anything. Then Drake just grabbed my arm and we left."

"And you didn't see her again after that?"

"No," her voice was barely audible at this point.

"Nicole, I need you to tell us more about this man that you talked about, your dealer. If you're scared –"

"I'll tell you everything about him if it means helping Laurie. She tried to save me and I wouldn't listen. And now – now she's gone and I'm like – this." She paused, caging tears in her throat. "His name is Drake. He doesn't give out his full name. You can usually find him in the alley behind the pizza place on 9th." Nicole proceeded to giving the agents a full physical description of the man and as much of his personal life that she knew.

They left the school and searched the alleyway for their suspect for quite some time to no avail.

"Where is this guy?" Emily sighed.

"He might be too cautious to deal in the middle of the day." Morgan suggested.

"Or too scared." Emily added. "Did you see how Kaitlin reacted to us talking about Drake?"

"There's definitely something going on between those two."

As he spoke, his cell phone sounded.

"Yeah Garcia?"

"You two might want to hightail it back to the station. There's something you both need to see."

Prentiss and Morgan retired from their search and returned quickly to the police station to join the rest of their team.


	11. There's More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I promise this will speed up soon!

"Alright Garcia," Hotch stated to Garcia's image on the monitor as he noted Morgan and Prentiss walking into the room, "we're all here. What have you got?"

"You remember those families of murder victims that I counsel? Well, today I spoke with the grandmother of a young girl named Bethany Borchardt. She saw all the media hoopla after Laurie Bridges called that radio station and contacted me. I spoke with her after her granddaughter was murdered and didn't remember the case which is crazy because she is the sweetest little old lady and -"

"Garcia," Hotch stated firmly.

"Right boss. Bethany Borchardt was 16 years old and a high school dropout. Her father was in prison for assault and battery and her mother was a dancer at a local Gentleman's club. Now, Bethany was last seen on November 14th, 2008, when her grandmother dropped her off at a local teen center. When she came back to pick her up, Bethany was nowhere to be found. Another girl deemed as a runaway."

"Certainly would appear that way," Rossi interjected, "where is the 'but' coming in here?"

"August 2nd, 2009. That's where. Bethany Borchardt's body was found hanging from a motel ceiling fan two states east away from her home."

"Suicide?" Emily questioned.

"At first glance, yes. The police report indicates a suicide, but it also has pictures. There were scratches found all over her neck."

"Indicating a struggle." Rossi pointed out. "What's this got to do with Laurie Bridges?"

"That part's coming. Police assumed that the scratches were from the girl simply having second thoughts at the last minute. Here's the trippy part. The pictures. Check this out."

Garcia pulled up a photograph of Bethany Borchardt and then placed an image of Laurie Bridges next to it.

The girls' chestnut hair draped over their shoulders and stopped at nearly the exact same point. Both straight and thin, the hue and length could not have been more of a match. Their fair skin and freckles mirrored each others' eerily, their green eyes both penetrating the team with their hard gaze.

"They could be twins," Emily breathed.

"Unfortunately, that's the only connection we have." Hotch sighed.

"Two points make a line, not a pattern." Reid noted solemnly.

"How about three points, cowboy?" Garcia's face reappeared on the screen. "One of the dancers who worked with Mrs. Borchardt went missing in December of 2007. Her name was Maureen Evans, age 27, Caucasian, brunette, green eyes. She went home from work around 2:00AM on a Friday evening and never showed up for work on Saturday. Her body was discovered, hanging from a light fixture in a motel in three counties west of her home. One of Maureen's press on nails was found wedged into the sheet around her neck."

"When was the body discovered?" Rossi questioned.

"September of 2008." Garcia quickly answered.

"Two months before Bethany Borchardt went missing." Reid observed.

"Looks like we've got a pattern," Morgan confirmed. "So what, he got tired of Maureen Evans, doubled back, kidnapped Bethany, and then kept heading west."

"I'm afraid there's more," Garcia interrupted. "Being the wonderful person I am, I took the liberty of taking the pattern and cross referencing it with missing persons and death records across the nation. This guy has been busy. I'm sending you the information now."

A list of girls poured into each team members' PDA system, including their chillingly nearly identical photographs. With the women hanging from the ceiling, their flowing hair draped in front of their faces, it was difficult to tell them apart in that moment of death.

"You've linked all eight of these cases together?" JJ questioned.

"All Caucasian brunettes, all found hanging in various motel rooms across the nation. Prostitutes, run aways, and one well-educated businesswoman. A few of them were never even reported missing, but the majority of them disappeared in some way before their deaths."

"What do you mean, 'majority'?" Hotch pressed.

"Well, the second woman found, was never reported missing. Even after she died, she was a Jane Doe until police matched her fingerprints to a Dana Carter from a previous case. The woman was a prostitute who had been severely beaten by one of her clients. He would've killed her if someone hadn't come by. That man, Jerry Hansen, had already murdered two prostitutes. He was apprehended and died in prison last year after a fight with an inmate."

Morgan shifted in his seat suddenly and swallowed hard. His brows furrowed and his eyes clouded. Reid glanced questioningly at his friend but said nothing in the moment.

"Did he have anyone working with him at the time that could be a potential suspect in this series of murders?" Hotch pressed.

"It looks like he worked alone." Garcia answered.

"His MO is completely different too." Rossi observed. "Hansen beat his victims to death slowly and the other two women were blonde."

"Unlike our eight brunettes." Emily said, nodding at the pictures.

"Here's another irregularity." Garcia noted, reading over her information. "The first woman, Gina Griffin, was never missing before she died. It truly does appear to be a suicide. A neighbor reported seeing her leave her house the day of her death in the same vehicle that was found at the motel. In the police interview, her husband, Daniel, stated that Gina had gone into labor while at home and the baby died during birth. He said that she had been so devastated over the loss that she took her own life."

"Two months later," Rossi began, "a woman goes missing and ends up dead in the exact same manner."

"Losing both his child and his wife," Emily noted, "that's a pretty big stressor."

"Garcia, get everything you can on this Daniel Griffin," Hotch ordered.

"Already working on it, sir."

"Address?" Hotch prompted.

"Not yet. Looks like he's moved around a lot."

"Well get it. We're going to want to pay him a visit. Reid and Rossi, victimology." Hotch directed. "See what else you can figure out about these women; their behaviors, everything. I want to know if there is anything else these women have in common besides their appearance."

As he continued to speak, Morgan rose from his chair and began making his way towards the door. Without hesitation, he turned and slipped out the doorway as the group disbanded to address their personal tasks. That is, everyone, except Reid. Spencer simply stood in place for the moment, gazing suspiciously at the door that his friend had just exited out of.


	12. This Ends Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Time for Derek to take the spotlight....what is he hiding?

Morgan quickly got into his vehicle and started the engine. His intentions were to swiftly fly out of the parking lot and straight to his destination, but his body wouldn't agree with his mind. Thoughts and images flooded his mind and he rang his fist against the dashboard with enough force to knock someone over. Closing his eyes and attempting to take in a breath, he wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel until his knuckles began to appear whitened.

"You son of a bitch," he mumbled underneath his breath.

The passenger door suddenly swung open and Reid slid onto the seat.

"Talking to me?" He asked sarcastically.

"No man, I was – how did you even –"

"Reading lips. I've been practicing since I was a kid. You should hear some of the things Elle used to whisper about you to JJ." He paused. "And again, an attempt at humor by Spencer Reid fails miserably. What's going on?"

"Nothing, man. I'm fine."

"So I'm just imagining your mood, facial and posture changes after Garcia told us about the missing women? Am I also imagining the fact that your breathing and heart rate have been steadily increasing during our conversation, and the fact that you're avoiding eye contact –"

"Enough," Morgan suddenly interrupted firmly. "Just leave it alone."

"I'll leave it alone, but I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone. So, whatever you're about to do or wherever you're going, I'm coming with you."

"No you're not. Look kid, this doesn't involve you. Just, get out, please."

Reid failed to verbally respond but simply neglected to make any sort of movement as to get out of the vehicle. Letting out a perturbed sigh, Morgan shifted into gear and drove off, joining his friend in the silence. As he got out onto the road, he flipped out his phone.

"I need Daniel Griffin's current address."

"What, you don't even say 'hello' anymore? I'm deeply hurt."

"Can you get it or not Garcia?"

"I've been working on it. He's moved around a lot and has been dutifully covering his tracks so it might– whoa."

"What is it?"

"He lives in town. 1626 Wilder Road. I'll send it to your PDA. Should I tell the others?"

"No," Morgan spoke quickly. "I just needed to know. Keep getting all the information as you can on him."

He barely finished his sentence before hanging up, Reid watching him with anxious eyes the entire conversation.

"He lives on Wilder Road, Reid." Morgan finally revealed.

"That's the same road that the park is on. He must live in one of those houses a block down. It changes everything."

"What do you mean?"

"The profile," he said with a pause, "it was wrong. We assumed this was a single kidnapping when we determined how Laurie Bridges was taken, that he watched and waited for her at the park. It wasn't predetermined. I think after he saw the first victim, it triggered something in his mind. She looked so similar to his late wife that it caused him to enter into a sort of psychosis. It's all a delusion. He initially spent two months grieving before seeing his first victim. Now, he's stuck in that pattern. He sees a woman who resembles his wife around the same time and takes her. I wouldn't be surprised if he actually thinks these women are his late wife. We should call Hotch."

"No," Morgan directed firmly.

"Morgan, if this is our guy, then –"

"Then we'll take care of it. This is something I need to do."

"What are you talking about? 'You' need to do this? Why?"

"Just please, don't call him. Not yet." The drive was long and silent as the two rode across the city, both of their minds racing for different reasons. As they finally pulled up to the home, both agents were caught by surprise. The home was attractive with a properly tended lawn and front flower garden. Its paisley trim did not necessarily scream "serial killer" and its lawn gnomes were a whole different fright of their own. The building itself was small and possessed a ranch styling. Morgan lead the way up the nearly dirt free sidewalk and pressed a finger to the doorbell.

After several minutes, a tall figure appeared behind the glass, bumbling down the steps with a briefcase. He dropped it to his side and opened the door with a hearty smile.

"Daniel Griffin?" Morgan questioned before the screen door was fully open.

"Howdy. What can I do for you, gentlemen?" His voice came out slow and smooth; creamy like melted butter, and immediately conveyed a pleasant tone.

"You can answer some questions for us," Morgan started.

"Questions? What kind of questions? Did something happen with one of my products, because I can guarantee –"

"It has nothing to do with your products, sir," Reid politely interrupted. "Are you a salesman?"

"Why, I sure am. I sell the best set of knives a person can buy."

"Does the name Laurie Bridges mean anything to you?" Morgan asked abruptly, ignoring the man's pitch.

"Isn't that the young gal that is a'missing? Ain't it just awful how folks are these days?"

"What about Dana Carter?" Morgan continued, hardly hearing Daniel's words.

"I'm sorry son, but I've never heard that name before."

"Are you sure about that?" Morgan took a step forward and narrowed his gaze.

"What is this all about now? Who are you two anyhow?"

"I'm Derek Morgan, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. We're with the FBI." Morgan bit off, flipping open his badge.

"The FBI? Why, I'm a respectable salesman and I don't appreciate being interrogated like this on my own front porch."

"This is your house?" Reid asked with a much softer tone than his partner's.

"A touch feminine, I know it. It's only mine while I am in town. I travel all over the country with my knives, you know. I find a place or house for rent while I'm in a city for a long time."

"So you've been here long?"

"Just about a year now. Fertile little town here. I've been selling left and right. I can barely keep up with the excitement."

"You mind if we take a look around?" Morgan more demanded than asked.

"Morgan –" Reid murmured but was cut off by the sound of his cell phone.

Reid backed away from the conversation for a moment and then rejoined them.

"As a matter of fact, I do mind. Nothing personal, but you actually caught me heading out here. I just got a call from a gal interested in the premium set."

"This late in the afternoon?" Morgan questioned.

"People have all kinds of schedules these days. They call, I go. I can't very well make sales if I'm picky about when and where. That's why they call me the 'traveling salesman'. You boys have a mighty fine evening now."

The two agents watched as the middle-aged man nearly skipped to his vehicle. The SUV alone spoke volumes to Morgan as he was already drawing massive assumed conclusions in his head. Suddenly, Reid's eyes widened.

"An SUV," he mumbled underneath his breath.

"What?"

"The – the woman at the park. She said there was a man who would sit in a navy SUV and drive by slowly. He must've been there the day Laurie walked home and saw her."

Without warning, Morgan hurried to their vehicle and leapt inside. Reid barely had his door closed before they were already moving.

"Whoa, hey, Morgan –"

"He owns the same vehicle from the park. He physically fits the profile. His job is a traveling salesman, also fits the profile. This guy is connected to the first woman who died and then is mysteriously living here when another girl is kidnapped. Everything else you said is true. He's our guy."

"I know he fits the profile but we can't just follow him. What do you plan on doing? We don't have an arrest warrant. We should call Hotch –"

"No. This ends, now."


	13. Dana Carter

"Even if he is the unsub, he said 'isn't that the girl who went missing'. If he knew she was dead he would've said 'wasn't that'. Which means, she's still alive."

"But for how long?"

"That was a voicemail from Hotch on the phone about the drug dealer who you were looking for earlier today. He wants to know where we are and for us to go back and check the alleyway again tonight after dark. If we turn around now, we'll make it just after sunset."

"We're not turning around."

"We should at least tell him –"

"No. Just no."

They drove the rest of the trip in tension soaked silence until they finally pulled off of the main road. As Daniel Griffin veered to the right, Morgan turned his vehicle to the left.

"Watch what road he turns down in the mirror," Morgan instructed. "He can't know we're following him."

Reid obeyed, glancing in the rearview mirror as the two vehicles continued to progress in opposite directions.

"He's heading out to the country." Reid observed in a curious tone. "He just turned left."

As Reid spoke, Morgan immediately swung around in a U-turn and began heading after his target.

"Who's Dana Carter?" Reid suddenly questioned.

Morgan remained silent, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"You started exhibiting this behavior after Garcia talked about the victim, Dana Carter and she was the only other woman you mentioned out of the eight to Daniel Griffin, and you didn't even talk about his wife. I saw her case file; she was beaten in Chicago the same time that you were a cop. So, who is she?"

"She just didn't live in Chicago when I was a cop. She grew up there."

"How do you know that?"

"Because," Morgan paused and sighed, "we grew up together. We even went to the same grade school. Neither of us really had anybody, so we had each other. I mean, after my dad died, I had my family, but this was, different. We got into trouble together, stole gum and candy, rode bikes, did stupid kid stuff. Then, we just, didn't."

"How come?"

"People change, kid. I became a cop and Dana just, got lost. A lot of people failed Dana, and I was one of them. I should've been looking out for her, I should've protected her."

"You didn't know."

"I knew what she did. When she almost died – I thought maybe it'd be different. She told me she got herself cleaned up and off the streets. I believed her. I stopped checking up on her and then –" Morgan pushed against the steering wheel in frustration, no other words needed.

Before either of them could continue the conversation, Morgan slowed to a stop in front of the only house on the dirt road for miles, the navy SUV resting in the driveway.

"He said he was coming here to meet a woman, right?" Morgan questioned and Reid agreed. "This look like a woman's house to you?"

"It doesn't look like anybody's house." Reid observed. "I doubt it's even structurally sound. The overgrown grass and the peeling of the paint suggest that this farm was abandoned years ago."

"Remember the phone call?" Morgan prompted. "There were gunshots in the background, but no one reported hearing any."

"That could mean anything," Reid countered, "people in downtown areas become deaf to those types of noises."

"You want to turn around and check out that punk drug dealer or wait for Hotch first, you go right ahead. But I have to be sure. I have to do this."

Morgan drew his gun and began to exit the vehicle. As Reid was about to speak up to stop his friend, the silent countryside atmosphere was broken by the shrill screaming of a woman. The two agents readied their weapons and hurried to the farmhouse. Morgan slipped through the front door first and the two quickly panned the front room. A tattered couch sat against wall, facing a television set that appeared to be as old as the house it resided in. Straight ahead through a thin hallway Reid could see part of the kitchen and proceeded in that direction. Soiled dishes rested on the counter and inside the sink, some of the remnants of food still fresh and edible. Morgan found himself searching a different direction. There was a faint cry that seemed to rise from the floorboards. To the right of the front door existed a small sitting room. The area was unfurnished and barren. The sunlight that seeped in through the cracks in the boarded window glimmered against the sole object in the room. An oversized area rug rested against the wood flooring with great simplicity. Its dark tones remained without fading and its edges appeared to be free from frays. The object stood out in such a dull and dreary place. Morgan cautiously moved towards it, pulling it up off the ground and kicking it over as he went. He knew the rug had a purpose but it wasn't until he was already falling that he realized it was not there for the reason he had imagined. Spender was still in the kitchen when he heard the thunderous crack and his friend call out suddenly. Still keeping his gun ready, Reid turned and hurried back to the source of the sound. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the broken boards and peered down. His friend lay against a floor of cement, groaning softly. Surveying the damage, Reid attempted to move closer to obtain a better view.

"Morgan!" He shouted, their silent entrance obviously blown.

There was no response as he watched his strong friend merely lay in a pile of broken floorboards with closed eyes. Reid inched forward, carefully watching his proximity to the hole. Again, he called out for his partner to no avail. Reid figured his unconscious friend would have to deal with it later and decided to call Hotch.

As Spencer turned around he was met with a blunt and heavy object. It collided with his skull and sent Reid collapsing backwards into darkness.


	14. Intruders

Laurie sat quietly in the corner, running her trembling fingers through her unkempt locks of hair. Soon enough her hands found her ears and she began pounding her palms against them.

"Stop. Stop. Stop."

She mumbled the words again and again until they no longer even sounded real to her anymore. For several minutes she simply remained huddled in the dark corner, curled up into a tight ball, gently rocking back and forth. The noise reverberated off of the cement walls and rushed through her ears and overtook her feeble mind. Its shrill resonance had plagued Lauire for hours now. She wondered if she would first go deaf or crazy. Of course, she already imagined she was crazy. Standing slowly, she peered in at the small and writhing figure that rested in a small and rickety crib. She brought her hand out to touch it but then pulled it back in fear.

Suddenly, another noise came about. The creak of the aged steps forced Laurie's heart rate to accelerate and a sort of black feeling to create itself in the inner pit of her stomach. She backed further into the corner as the shadowed figure moved closer. Her chest rose and fell dramatically with every step he took forward. As he reached Laurie, he leaned over and gently kissed the infant that lay inside the crib and then proceeded to do the same to Laurie who neglected to breathe when he did so.

"Can I take him upstairs?" Laurie whispered.

"We've talked about this," he replied gently but with an undertone of aggression.

"He needs fresh air and to be around people."

"What he needs is his mother. That is enough."

"But he –"

"I said, 'that's enough'!" With his words, he brought his first down heavily against Laurie's face and she stumbled to the ground.

She could feel the warm liquid against her lips before she even completed her fall. She hadn't even realized the scream of terror that had passed her lips as she had been sent backwards. The sound that had haunted her before increased significantly, beginning with a deafening and shrill burst. The next sound heard was that of the floorboards above them.

"Shut him up," the man hissed, "now!"

Laurie reached into the crib hesitantly but did not pick the child up.

"Do it now, or I will."

Laurie scooped the infant into her embrace and rocked him awkwardly as Daniel turned and headed back up the steps, locking the door behind him. Laurie continued to whisper soft words to the infant, but still he continued to cry. She imagined he was hurting himself as the wailing became hoarse and not as audible. She could easily hear the creak of footsteps above her head and recited a small prayer. Laurie yearned to cry out for help from the unknown intruders. She failed to care if they were burglars or simply teenagers searching for a place to be alone. Her brain screamed wildly, but still nothing came passed her lips. She miserably understood in her heart though that it was already too late for whoever had crossed through the threshold. She knew that they would be dead before they even noticed she was there, just as had happened with the previous intruders.

_"This place is perfect!"_

Laurie could hear the muffled words of the strangers in her mind as if they were again upstairs above her.

_"It's disgusting and creepy. I thought everyone said some crazy guy lived here. Haven't you heard the stories?"_

_"Do you see anyone around? There's no one here. Besides, I thought you liked danger. Hey, you wanted to get away from your parents and from this life. That's what we're doing, babe. We'll crash here for the night and then tomorrow, it is goodbye Virginia for good. You stay here and make sure we weren't followed. I'm going to check the rest of the place out."_

_The creaking of floorboards resumed and Laurie gazed pleadingly at the ceiling above her. She nearly called out for the strangers, but then instinctively cupped her hands over her mouth. He would certainly punish her severely if he heard her trying to escape. Laurie also wondered if she truly heard the steps or simply was imagining them. After she was first taken she would sometimes close her eyes and imagine the blue sky and grass between her toes. She would keep the picture in her mind for so long that she would begin to believe she was in fact, free. Then she would open her eyes and be met with the bleak walls and the dark atmosphere. By now, Laurie found it difficult to recall the sensation of warm sunrays against her skin or the smell of fresh air. She had stopped pretending, stopped hoping long ago._

_Laurie's anxious thoughts were interrupted when the twist of the doorknob sounded through the silence. She quickly looked up at the door and began trembling. The click of the lock echoed and the door slowly squeaked open. Laurie stood frozen in the dark as the shadowed figure cautiously made his way down the stairs. As his foot tapped the cement, another blackened shape appeared behind him, a long object in its hands. Laurie didn't need light to identify the new figure and she quickly backed against the wall in terror._

_"You're trespassing, boy." The gruff and thick whispered voice cut through the quiet and caused the young man to freeze where he stood. "Now, we're going to do this nice and quiet as to not alarm your pretty little girlfriend. Turn around. Let me see the face of the person robbing me."_

_The boy slowly turned his body to face the man at the top of the steps, all the while raising his shaky hands._

_"I swear, we are not robbing you, man."_

_"Did I say you could speak? You don't think I read the paper? I know your face. You're a thief. So, if someone is a thief and they're sneaking around on your property, what would you think they're doing, huh? Now, you get upstairs and you get out of my house nice and quiet like and maybe I won't shoot you, maybe."_

_Before any movement could be made, the shrill noise of a baby's cry rang out. Laurie held her child close and looked up at the man in horror. Her eyes met the trespasser's and he began to shout to his girlfriend to run when the shot rang out. The boy's eyes grew wide as his body staggered and then collapsed to the ground. He wasn't even on the floor before the man was already turned around and in pursuit of his next victim. Laurie watched the dying boy with horrified eyes. She looked down at the whimpering infant in her arms and suddenly something took over her again. It was the same feeling the washed over her and fueled her when she had been locked in the crawlspace the second time. Laurie hadn't had a true family for as long as she could remember, now she did, and she was going to do everything in her power to protect it. The adrenaline kicked in and Laurie hurriedly laid the child down in its crib and pulled violently at her restraints. Finding no success, she quickly laid down on the cold concrete and stretched her body as long as it would allow. Her hand met with the still warm body of the boy and she began searching the corpse diligently. Her outstretched hands fumbled in and out of his pockets until she felt something resting inside his left sweatshirt pocket. Frantically, Laurie slid the small, black device out and dialed a set of numbers as she listened with one ear to the events unfolding upstairs. She knew that if he found her with the phone it would all be over. Laurie hardly heard the voice on the other end of the line as she spoke in whispers. Her strength was fading and being replaced by panic. She could barely accept what had been done to her by that man, let alone tell another living soul. She cut herself off, unable to reveal the truth. Summoning all her courage, she continued speaking only to be interrupted by the piercing noise of a gunshot. Laurie's insides did back flips and she could hear him dragging the dead or dying individual across the floor above her. She hurriedly ended the call and was about to steal the phone away into hiding when the door flung open. Startled, she dropped the phone next to the body and without time to correct her mistake, Laurie got up from off the ground. She turned away from the corpse, her mind finally comprehending the fact that there was a dead boy in front of her. Before, all she had thought of was the phone. Her stomach lurched and she imagined she would be sick. Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Laurie closed her eyes and prayed._


	15. Numb

Laurie skidded feverishly into the back corner against the wall. She held her baby close to her chest and brought her legs up so that her knees protected the infant. She remained in that shell-like formation for some time, unmoving and hardly blinking. She had no idea what to do or think. She hardly knew what she had just witnessed. The dust hung in the stale air and Laurie moved to shield her child from the floating particles. The deafening noise had greatly startled both Laurie and her baby. The child was already screaming again. Laurie could hardly pay attention to his cries though. All of her focus landed on the image in front of her. There, not ten feet away, laid a pile of broken wood, and a man.

She heard the voice call out to this fallen individual and pressed herself harder against the walls to remain in the darker shadows. The man appeared injured and failed to respond. Then she saw what made her heart twist and shatter. The man's eyes were closed lightly and his head had fallen to one side. The image of the dead boy from before flashed before her eyes and she knew that this man was surely gone too. She heard the stranger from upstairs call out for him again, but knew he would not receive an answer. The voice suddenly stopped and Laurie heard the thump. She knew then, it was over. They were both dead.

Laurie still remained numb, frozen in place. The infant had long since silenced himself and Laurie felt terrified in the stillness. She had listened to the dragging across the floorboards above and heard the scuffle of a chair, but all noise had since ceased. It was several elongated moments before Laurie allowed herself to breathe again and glance down at her motionless child. He lay huddled in her arms, eyes drawn closed, fists clenched and without a single flinch. The terror returned and she felt as though the ceiling had crashed directly down on her.

Another noise startled her, but she neglected to move from her petrified state. She could faintly hear the locks to her basement confinement unlatching, but in her mind they sounded distant. The heavy door creaked open and the noise of thunderous stomping against the steps echoed against the cement walls. Laurie did not need to look up to know when he was near. It wasn't the scraping of the way he walked, or his crackled breath that gave him away. It was to the point now where Laurie could feel his presence looming over her like some dark and deviant shadow.

"Is –" Laurie squeaked, still refusing to look up from her child, "is he – dead?"

"What do you care?" Daniel's enraged voice boomed throughout the small room.

Daniel leaned down next to the unconscious agent and glared at him with disdain. With a grunt, Daniel sifted through the man's pockets and swiftly pulled out a small cell phone. Laughing underneath his breath, Daniel slid the device into his own pocket and stood. His bulky boots sliding against the floor as he moved, he made his way back to the steps and the door.

"He's dead," he grunted. "I'll be back."

The door slammed shut and Laurie again could hear the locks latching and clanging. Her tomb was now yet again sealed. Laurie gazed down in horror at her baby boy, not understanding what was wrong with him and not desiring to look up and see the dead man again.

She remained stiff for several elongated moments until her insides squirmed up into her throat. Her instincts were to protect herself, and her child, but something else was beating against her chest. The chaos continued inside of her and she fought to tame it. If she did this, she was sure she would not live another day more. But then again, she was not sure how she could live with herself if she did not do this. The conflict roared throughout her entire being until she finally ambled to her tired feet. Placing the infant gingerly in the crib, Laurie bent down and crawled feebly over to the stranger. Her quivering fingers caressed his crimson stained face as she stared at the man's features with curiosity and trepidation. His softly closed eyes and dark lips that gave way to a gentle opening between them made the man seem as if he was merely sleeping. The dry skin on her fingers tickled and sensations of warmth surged through her body. The only physical human contact she had had in how long she could not remember was with the man she loathed and her child. Daniel's touch was coarse and harsh, usually accompanied by the unforgiving sting of his fist or the back of his hand. Her child's was soft and gentle. She spent hours merely stroking his arms and feet to remind herself of human contact. This though, this was different.

She frantically glanced around the room and up at the ceiling before leaning forward. A faint pulse danced against her pressed fingertips but no breath passed through his still lips. Hesitating, Laurie lowered herself down to meet the man's mouth. Her wavering breath flowed out and into him, her lips quivering with delight at the new form of contact. Pausing, Laurie listened longingly for a sign. Again, she bent down and kissed the stranger with her life force. Mumbling words of pleadings, Laurie gingerly shook the man's shoulders, begging him not to leave, not to leave her. She tried once more and then another to give him life. She sat up weakly and stared down and the unconscious man she was so desperately trying to save. She wasn't quite sure what had sparked the courage and desire to do so, but gazing down at the man she failed to save cut through her very being as if he was someone dear to her. This complete stranger was dead, and Laurie felt as if she had lost a friend.

Reluctantly admitting defeat and throwing the white flag up to Death, Laurie pushed herself back across the cement floor, tears now banging at the doors of her eyes. Her stomach caught in her throat and she coughed and gagged to keep the emotions at bay. She reached the crib and pulled herself up to stand. Leaning against the piece of decrepit furniture for support, Laurie reached in and drew her son up to her chest. She desperately required his presence to keep herself from breaking apart. She stared down with solemn eyes at her child for several minutes before allowing her body to give into weakness and she slid down to the floor. Hugging the child close as she had done before to silence him, Laurie closed her eyes and rocked gently. After several minutes of this utter silence, a panging in Laurie's chest gave her cause to open her eyes. The concern soon birthed terror as she searched her son for a sign of life. His lightly closed eyes and softly parted lips terribly resembled that of the lifeless man lying on the floor. Her mind clouded and she could barely speak.

"Wake up" she whispered to the boy. "Please, wake up."

The very same shrill shrieking that she had prayed to go away, she now desperately missed and longed for. A twitch, a sigh, a cough, cry, wail, anything. She didn't care if he cried for the rest of his infant life; she just wanted to know he was okay. Her arms trembled and she could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly. She simply could not look at him any longer. The image of her dead child was burning into her brain and she could not handle it. With a sudden burst of frenzied stamina, Laurie quickly stood and leaned against the aged crib. Caging ferocious tears, she bent her head down and pressed her parched lips against the child's forehead. Without a word, she gingerly placed him in the crib and quickly looked away. Without warning, her body gave in and her legs turned to jell-o. She rapidly collapsed to the hard floor and the barricade broke open, her tears now flowing at full force. She imagined that she would crush underneath the immense pain. It clamped her heart and pulled it violently up into her throat. It sent deep jabs into her gut and caused her stomach to topple over itself again and again. Her blood ran cold and her skin felt like ice. Every fiber of her being ached in a way she had never known. Laurie merely leaned against the wall with a static look upon her face of complete emptiness, of utter defeat. Two more lives were now lost because of her, lives that perished because of her and she failed to save. How many more were to die for her? How many more people would she have to watch fade from this earth at the hands of her capture, or worse, herself. Her son had been the one thing holding her together. Now, he was gone and her stitching was becoming swiftly unraveled. She stared in front of her, but failed to actually see anything at all. She was so lost inside herself that she did not even notice the fallen man when he moved towards her.

 


	16. Missing

The offices remained busy with people bustling about. Prentiss crossed the room and scanned the two empty desk spaces where her partners had been previously working at suspiciously as she did so. Her pace slowed to a stop and she simply stood in place for a moment. With a sigh, she turned around and nearly was knocked over by Hotch as he entered.

"Hotch, have you seen Morgan? I haven't seen him since this afternoon."

"I was looking for Reid. We need to finish this profile for the officers. Did he say anything to you?"

"No. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him since this afternoon either."

The two exchanged curious glances and exited the room. They found Rossi surrounded by the photographs of the young women in a spare and cramped storage room.

"Dave," Hotch began as he entered the office, "have you seen Reid or Morgan?"

"No. Why, what's wrong?"

Before anyone could answer, Hotch's phone rang. Garcia could be heard on the other end and her lack of a pleasant greeting told him nearly everything he needed to know. He pulled her up on his computer screen in the other room and Garcia hurriedly explained Morgan's earlier phone call.

"Why would he want the address?" Emily questioned.

"That was my question," Garcia replied. "So, I did what I do best, I dug. There was no evidence that Derek knew Daniel Griffin, so, I dug deeper." With a click, she pulled up a familiar photograph.

"That's Dana Carter," Rossi noted, "the second victim."

"And what do we know about her?" Garcia urged.

"She was a prostitute. Body found in a motel in May of 2006 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Nearly beaten to death by prostitute killer, Jerry Hansen in 2003."

"And where did that happen?" Garcia prompted.

"Chicago," Rossi sighed, suddenly comprehending the connection.

"So you think Morgan knew her when he was with the Chicago P.D.?" Emily wondered out loud.

"Not just knew her," Garcia revealed, "records show that they went the same elementary school. I looked into the file from the Chicago P.D. a little closer. Derek was pulled off the case for being too close to the victim. Apparently, he slammed Jerry Hansen against the wall so hard during the interrogation that he almost had a concussion. It almost lost them the case and probably would have if they hadn't found forensic evidence to link him to the murders."

Garcia was hardly finished talking when Hotch pulled his cell phone back out and began dialing a distinct set of numbers. His furrowed brow gave the others their answer.

"Garcia, try Reid," Hotch ordered as he began to redial.

"Uh, I already did, sir." Her stammering caused Hotch to put down his phone and turn towards the screen. "I haven't been able to get a hold of either of them for the last half hour. After he called me I tried him back and he didn't answer. Now it's just going straight to voicemail. That's why I called, sir. I tracked their location from their cell phones. I know I should've told you right away, but I was still looking into Dana Carter and I thought –"

"Garcia," Hotch interrupted, "where are they?"

"I'm sending the coordinates to your PDA now, sir. It's the last solid location I could get on them. Now, either their phones are off or –"

"Alright," Hotch began, "let's –"

"Wait –" Garcia suddenly spoke up nervously. "That's not all. You told me to find out everything I could on Daniel Griffin. Here it is."

"Do we have time for this?"

"You're going to want to make time, sir. Born in Anthony, Arkansas. His father was also a successful traveling salesman from Houston. Married Gina Dean from Plainview, Texas in 1986. Respectable traveling salesman. He is in the top ten of the salesmen in his company –"

"Garcia," Hotch interrupted, "a point?"

"Getting there, sir. After his wife's death, he didn't take any time off of work but his sales scores definitely dropped. A few of his potential customers even called in complaints, reporting that he was aggressive and rude. One woman said that he tried to force his way inside her house. He was even looking at getting fired. That was, until about two months later. Suddenly it was like his wife had never died. His sales sky rocketed and there were no more complaints for about a year. Again, his performance suddenly dropped and the complaints came in again."

"Let me guess," Rossi interjected, "two months later, he was back on top again."

"You got it. The pattern continued. After about a year, it's like he is a whole different person for two months and then, boom, back on top."

"The two months periods of time," Rossi noted, "they're when he doesn't have a victim. He doesn't have someone to feed his aggression and grief into, so it comes out on his customers."

"He wasn't able to accept his wife's death, so he's taking women who remind him of her," Emily concluded. "Prostitutes, a businesswoman, it doesn't matter. He sees someone around that time again after he kills one of his victims with the same physical appearance, he takes them."

"He must've saw the first victim and her resemblance to his wife acted as the stressor." Hotch added. "Now he's stuck. Repeating it over and over again."

"Which means Laurie Bridges is running out of time." Prentiss realized.

"We have to find Morgan and Reid." Rossi spoke the words they all were thinking.

"I'll get JJ and we will go to them," Hotch instructed, "Dave and Prentiss, go to this guy's address. If he's there, bring him in. Garcia, get them a warrant."

Hotch drove with one hand gripping the steering wheel tight, while his other kept his cell phone firmly against his ear. JJ sat beside him, reading off the directions to the coordinates given to them by Garcia.

"Damn it," Hotch finally spoke, as he slammed the phone shut. "What the hell were they thinking?"

As the vehicle ascended onto the bridge that separated the two parts of the city, JJ squinted at the electronic device in her hand.

"Stop. Pull over." She suddenly spoke.

"What, what is it?"

"This is it."

"What?"

"According to this, we're right on top of them."

The two quickly exited the vehicle and scanned the area.

"Do you see anything?" JJ questioned.

Hotch failed to respond but simply walked down to the end of the bridge and made his way to the riverbank. JJ quickly followed and met Hotch as he stood at the edge of the shore, intently looking out into the water.


	17. Alive

Morgan blinked hard and moved his head slowly from side to side. This simple action caused Derek to feel like his entire brain was being tossed about inside his skull. He lifted his arms to his face and rubbed his forehead gingerly. Unaware of his surroundings, it was only when Morgan heard the distinct sound that his mind began to focus and access what had happened and where he now was. The high-pitched noise sounded so familiar and yet so very out of place. He glanced around and waited for his vision to regain focus. He could see the shattered pieces of floorboards surrounding and covering him. The walls were bland and dark. The entire space was void of color, of life. And yet, there amidst the dreariness and pain, existed that sound. It was a sound so pure that Morgan imagined he was hallucinating at first. Then, he turned his head to the side and saw her. There, on the opposite side of the room, sat a disheveled and trembling young woman. She had herself pressed hard against the wall in terror and was staring off straight in front of her as if in a trance. Her brown hair was tangled and her face was darkened by dirt and dust, but Derek recognized her instantly. He attempted to sit up but immediately and painfully was reminded of the severity of the fall. His entire body pulsed and cuts and soon-to-be bruises decorated his skin. He grimaced and pushed himself up off the ground. His limbs nearly gave out on him but bits of adrenaline pulsed inside of him. He knew he had to get to her. Nothing else mattered.

He looked around and noted the silence. He assumed Reid was already on his way down or calling for help. Limping over to the distraught girl, Morgan attempted to hide his agony as best he could. The girl simply remained motionless, as if she didn't even notice his presence.

"Laurie?" Derek whispered. "Are you Laurie Bridges?"

He already knew the answer to his question but was searching for some sort of response.

"Laurie, my name is Derek Morgan. I'm with the FBI. My friends and I, we've been looking for you."

Still, he was met with only silence and that same distant stare. He internally wondered if she could even hear him. It was the same expression he had witnessed on so many faces after tragic or horrific events. He could not blame her in the least. He silently wondered how he would be after a year in near utter seclusion and God knows what kind of sick torture. Still, he needed to get through to her somehow. He quickly examined her poor physical state and the surroundings. His eyes fell on the chains that confined her to the floor and the small space around it.

"Hey, Laurie, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. I want to help you, but I need you to talk to me. I need you to –"

"My fault."

The words were almost inaudible and her voice emerged hoarse and shaky.

"What? What's your fault?"

"I tried – he said – I couldn't do it. He said to – but he kept – he just kept crying. Crying – so loud. I – I couldn't – he wouldn't be quiet."

It was at this point that Laurie began subtly rocking and trembling with each word she managed to utter. It was also at this time that Derek noticed the crib for the first time and suddenly remembered the odd noise he had heard as he had awoken. Morgan slowly stood and made his way to the crib. His heart plummeted as he stared in on the small infant.

"He – he told me to. He told me to – to make him quiet. I couldn't. I – I didn't mean to. I didn't – my fault. My fault."

Morgan gazed at the young girl as the tears broke past her hard eyes and slithered down her grimy cheeks. He then looked back at the newborn and put a hesitant hand down in the crib. As he did so, he saw the small figure's fist open and then ball up again. The infant's head turned and his mouth made a pursed formation.

"No!"

Derek failed to notice the girl had somehow broken out of her paralyzing trance and was now thrusting herself towards him.

"Don't touch him! No! Don't touch him! Don't!"

Morgan tenderly grabbed at the girl's flailing arms and fists, pleading with her in between her despairing screams.

"Hey, hey, wait, wait. Laurie, stop. Look. He's not dead. He's not dead. Look. Just look."

Morgan grasped the girl's arms and turned her gingerly but purposefully towards the crib. She clasped her eyelids shut and defiantly shook her head in protest.

"No, no, no. I – I can't. No. Please, don't make me. No, no. Please I –"

As she cried out in desperation and grief, a soft noise formed and caused her words to tangle in her throat. It was nothing significant or loud or even fairly noticeable; a soft and beautiful coo amidst the despair. Laurie slowly ceased her struggling and timidly began to open her tear-filled eyes. Her sight landed on the boy and she watched as he squirmed and fussed. In that moment it was as if all of the air in the room had rushed into Laurie's lungs. Even though a great weight suddenly lifted off her shoulders, she felt heavy. Again, her legs buckled and she began to stumble backwards. Morgan held her close and kept her standing, grimacing silently at his own pain. He glanced curiously up at the ceiling, having expected to hear Reid or a swarm of agents and cops entering the building by now. When all he was met with was silence, a knot twisted in his stomach and the entire room felt colder.


	18. Still Fight Left

Morgan continued to stare up at the ceiling and listen to the eerie silence with trepidation. With a heavy sigh, he shuffled over to the steps.

"Don't" Laurie whispered shakily.

Morgan paused and turned to the girl that was looking him in the eyes for the first time since he saw her. Her gaze was hard at first but then her brow furrowed and her eyes dropped and filled with sorrow and dread. His mind and heart rolled on their side and for a solitary moment, he could not move. It wasn't until that very instant, when their eyes met and he truly saw her for the first time, that he recognized her face. He had known she was Laurie Bridges immediately, but not until then had he seen someone else in her. That discerning gaze, those round and hazel eyes, the flowing chestnut hair, and those lips. They quivered because smiling just wasn't something one did in such circumstances, but they did because behind all of the pain and all of the anger and sadness, there was a natural beaming smile yearning to break free. He had seen the same features in Dana Carter and had admired them then as he did now. Despite everything his childhood friend had experienced, no matter how much hurt that was thrown her way, she met it all with a firm gaze and curled lips. She was someone who been hardened by life, but it made her stronger, almost more compassionate, instead of turning her callous as it did so many others. That grin remained, waiting impatiently right behind those twitching lips, ready for what the world brought at her next.

Morgan moved closer to Laurie and noted her instinctive flinch as she moved backwards away from him. It was only a second before she corrected her behavior and hesitantly stepped forward. It was a moment that on the surface appeared so utterly insignificant that one would not even care to notice. Morgan noticed of course and couldn't help but internally applaud the girl he faced. Sure, she was terrified, but she was also determined and resilient. After everything Derek was sure this man had done to her, had put her through, not only was she still alive, but she also had fight left. Many other girls who had been so harshly abused by their male attackers and captures had a difficult time looking another male in the face for quite some time. Now here was this frightened and beaten down girl, stepping towards him.

"Please," she pleaded, "don't go upstairs."

"Why," Morgan asked softly, "what's upstairs?"

"He went up there. He heard you coming. He's up there. He'll kill you too."

"What do you mean 'too'?" Morgan pressed delicately.

Laurie's eyes danced and she lowered her head in regret and fright. Her lips quivered as if her mouth was desperately trying to speak but something held her back.

"I – I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"Sorry for what? Laurie, what are you sorry for? What happened?"

By then, Morgan had the girl by her shoulders, but gently and was attempting to establish eye contact as she looked everywhere but at him. Her breathing began to increase and her entire body trembled.

"Laurie, it's okay. It's okay. Just breathe. Calm down, that's it, good, good. What happened?"

Laurie kept her head down for a few more lingering moments and then slowly raised it so that her dismal gaze met his anxious eyes.

"He killed your friend."

Morgan cursed underneath his breath, racing across the room, up the stairs and pulled violently on the door handle. When it failed to open at his pounding and pulling, Morgan grabbed hold of the banisters and sent his foot forcefully against the door. Still, it refused to yield to his anger.

"Come on!" He shouted, slamming a fist against the frame and releasing another kick.

Morgan reached for his Glock but was greeted with air. He hurriedly raced back to the pile of debris and began sifting through it. Laurie just watched in terror as a dark object revealed itself from underneath a broken board. Derek grabbed the weapon and marched up the steps. Half way up the stairs, he drew his gun, against Laurie's protests. The bullet punched through the lock and Morgan immediately again attempted to bust the door open in every way possible. The multiple locks, latches, and deadbolts that remained fastened to the other side of the door along with its sturdy build stood against all of Morgan's tricks and fury.

Laurie grabbed her child close and ducked intuitively back in the corner. Her whimpering grew louder with every shot Morgan made.

"Come on," Morgan hollered venomously, "come on, you son of bitch!"

He glanced away from his target for just enough time to spot Laurie huddled and shaking. The infant's cries were now drowning out his rage-filled screams as Laurie gasped for air, her eyelids clamped shut tight. Morgan employed everything he had in him to tame his grief and wrath and make his way slowly over to the victim he had nearly forgotten about. Kneeling down, Morgan reached out a hand and carefully touched Laurie's shoulder while softly speaking her name. The girl instantly screamed in terror and held her child even closer.

"Laurie, Laurie? What's wrong? It's me, it's Derek Morgan. I'm not going to hurt you. Laurie, calm down. You need to breathe."

Laurie neglected to listen and continued to unwillingly watch the horrific memory play out in her mind.

_Before any movement could be made, the shrill noise of a baby's cry rang out. Laurie held her child close and looked up at the man in horror. Her eyes met the trespasser's and he began to shout to his girlfriend to run when the shot rang out. The boy's eyes grew wide as his body staggered and then collapsed to the ground. He wasn't even on the floor before the man was already turned around and in pursuit of his next victim. Laurie watched the dying boy with horrified eyes… She turned away from the corpse, her mind finally comprehending the fact that there was a dead boy in front of her. Before, all she had thought of was the phone. Her stomach lurched and she imagined she would be sick._

"Laurie? Look at me. Hey, look at me, Laurie. Calm down. You need to calm down and you need to breath. I won't hurt you. I –"

"He – he shot him," she sobbed with her eyes still closed and replaying the scene. "He was right there – my age – just a kid – he didn't even think – he just – right there and then – he just shot him – and – then he – he just fell. Dead. Blood – there was so much – and I – he was gone –"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. It's okay. You're safe now."

Morgan swallowed hard and shook his head. It didn't take a profiler to realize what had triggered the vivid memory. Morgan holstered his weapon and stared at the weeping girl with compassionate and grieving eyes.

"Hey, look at me." He whispered with a small smile.

Laurie paused and then hesitantly allowed the agent to lift her chin.

"I'm going to get you out of here, you hear me? I'm going to get you and your son out of here."


	19. A Job to Do

"I'm going to get you out of here, you hear me? I'm going to get you and your son out of here."

Laurie dropped eye contact and nodded solemnly and without words. Morgan understood and quickly stood. He glanced around and searched for any possible escape.

"Why hasn't he come down yet?"

"He knows we can't get out." Laurie stated blankly. "He'll be back soon," she paused and locked eyes with Morgan, "for you."

"That son of a bitch won't even get the chance," Morgan gritted his teeth with each word.

"I –" Laurie stopped herself as if she either dreaded what she was about to say or did not fully know how to express such thoughts.

She swallowed and cocked her head curiously to the side, her sad yet compassionate eyes finding Derek's.

"I – I'm sorry – about your friend."

Morgan closed his eyes for a brief moment and tilted his head back in anguish. He simply could not allow himself to think about that, not yet. Just the faintest memory, an itch of grief, could send him over the edge. He desired to break down the door, find this psychotic murderer and plant a bullet straight through his brain without even blinking. Still, such thoughts, such emotions, were blinding, paralyzing. Right then and there, it wasn't about him and it wasn't about Reid. There was a job to do and there was a girl to save. End of story. He couldn't let anything else matter.

Derek frantically searched his pockets. Cursing underneath his breath, he whipped his head back.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for my phone."

Laurie visibly shifted and her eyes blinked rapidly, another horrific memory invading her mind. She turned away from the agent and held her breath for a moment, employing all her strength to push the nightmare out of her head.

Laurie shook the memory away and returned to watching the man scramble about.

"He – he took it." Laurie whimpered.

There was a low mumbling from above and the floorboards moaned. Laurie brought her sleeping child close to her chest and trembled.

"He's back." She whispered, terror wrapped around her words.

Suddenly, as if given new purpose, Laurie rose from the floor and placed the baby in the crib. She got as close to the agent as the chains would allow and pulled frantically at his arm.

"You have to go, now."

"Go? What are you –?"

"It's an old house," Laurie pleaded, "there – there's a place, over there. You can get into the walls. You have to hide. You – you have to hide or he'll kill you, please."

"Hey, listen to me. I'm not leaving you, got that?"

Before she could respond, they both heard the various locks and latches being undone and Morgan hurried to the steps to secure his shot. He moved slower than usual as his limbs screamed out in agony. He was in the process of grabbing his weapon when the door swung violently open. The shotgun stared Derek in the face before Morgan reached his weapon.

"You," Daniel hissed, "you're trespassing!"

"Daniel Griffin," Morgan stated firmly, "I'm Derek Morgan with the FBI; we spoke at your home earlier. Now, put the gun down."

"My home? Is that why you were there? You and that scrawny kid? You break in there too after I left? You robbing me?"

"No one is robbing you, just –"

"I know what I see! Don't lie to me boy!" Daniel thrust the rifle closer to Derek's face just in time for Morgan to grab the end with both his hands and pull Daniel down off the stairs.

The two tumbled down onto the ground and rolled back and forth. They both clasped onto the rifle as life depended on it. Every fiber of Derek's being throbbed with excruciating pain from the earlier fall. His already open wounds and bruises scraped against the cement. His vision blurred as what he guessed was a concussion reared its head. This impairment allowed Daniel to thrust himself on top of his opponent and he gained full control of the weapon.

"You itchin' to die, boy?"

"No! Wait, please!"

Laurie's pleading sobs hung in the musty air as the three stood in silence for a moment. Laurie instinctively stepped back in terror of retaliation. She did not know who was more surprised by her sudden outburst, her or Daniel. He simply glared over in her direction with the meanest look she ever saw him bear.

"Please," she coughed, "don't kill him. He – he saved him – he saved – our baby." The last words tasted like vinegar in Laurie's mouth and she struggled to maintain her composure.

Daniel took a staggering step up to stand and thwarted any chance Derek had at grabbing the rifle from his hands. The man glanced from the agent and then to Laurie, furrowing his brow as if he was suffering from a sudden and severe headache. He quickly shook it off and frowned at Derek, who was already attempting to push himself off the ground. For a moment, it appeared as if he was lowering his weapon and Morgan allowed his tense and aching shoulders to sag. Just as he was bringing the weapon to his side, Daniel quickly lifted the gun and brought it against the side of the agent's head. Derek's body went limp and he crashed backwards onto the cement ground.


	20. Newfound Hope

"What?" Emily hugged the phone to her ear and stared wide-eyed at Rossi who stood across from her on the sidewalk.

He looked up at her shocked and worried tone and offered a curious glance.

"Yeah, we're here right now. Okay."

"What's going on?" Rossi questioned before she even hung up the phone.

"The trace on Morgan and Reid's cell phones led to the middle of the river. A dive team is headed to the scene now.

"Damn it," Rossi hissed through clenched teeth.

"You don't think –"

"No," Rossi interrupted, "the only thing I think is that this killer is smart. He must have ditched their phones. He's got them."

"Now what?"

"We do what we always do," Rossi sighed, "work like every second counts."

"This doesn't make any sense," Emily sighed, "it's like this guy contradicts himself. He's from some small town in Arkansas, raised by his grandparents on a farm. How does someone like that become a high end salesman and a clever serial killer? I mean, this guy is smart and resourceful enough to kidnap all these women, keep them for so long without them escaping, and now, he's outsmarted Morgan and Reid."

"I think there's more to this Unsub than we thought. His father didn't want to stop working. He didn't have  _time_ for his son."

"So," Prentiss gathered, "abandonment issues."

"He wants to be noticed by his father, so he becomes a salesman too. He wasn't just some worker on the farm. After his grandparents died, he took over and managed it like a business. It was the most successful farm in that area until he sold it all."

"So that, plus his drive to prove himself and make himself seen to his father brought him to the top." Emily reasoned.

"And then – he met Gina."

"Finally, he has someone who appreciates him, maybe even loves him, and then she dies. He loses her and his child. Added on from his pain from his father, he snaps."

"That's more than abandonment issues." Rossi sighed. "How's the warrant coming along?"

"Garcia's having trouble getting it."

"That's some thick red tape to cut through when we don't have any evidence."

"I hate this," Emily grunted. "There's a girl missing and now Reid and Morgan and we can't do anything because of legalities."

"Not necessarily," Rossi cocked an eyebrow. "We can still do something. Let's take a look around. A person's house says a lot about them."

"Well then," Emily glanced around, "this house is telling me our Unsub has got a feminine side."

"He's in sales," Dave explained, "it's all about appearance. Nice car, nice clothes, nice house. But  _this_ , this is different. Out of all the houses, hotels, apartments, he chose to rent this house, why?"

"Location?" Emily pointed out. "It's right where Laurie was taken."

"But we know now that was never preplanned. Laurie was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. There's another reason here."

"His wife," Emily reasoned.

"Who would you expect lives here if you drove past?" Rossi pressed.

"Either a single woman, or a married couple." She sighed. "So this is part of his delusion?"

"He's not just taking these women because they look like his wife," Dave explained, "to him, they are his wife. It's like she never died."

"That means Laurie Bridges could be in this house right now," Emily turned quickly towards the front door and stared intently at the small window.

Laurie shivered uncontrollably as she watched her capturer carry her one chance at escaping up the steps. The limp body of the agent jostled against Daniel's broad shoulders with each step up he took. She remained silent as he slammed the door shut and listened the his footsteps above her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to the stranger who was no longer there through broken sobs.

It wasn't until she lifted her head from her quivering hands that the glint caught her weary eye. It was no more than a faint shimmer amidst the layer of filth that covered the cement floor. Laurie narrowed her brow and cocked her head to the side curiously. Hope swelled up in her like a roaring fountain. She crawled clumsily forward and reached a feeble arm out in front of her. Her fingertips lightly grazed the metallic object and she groaned in frustration. Lying flat on her stomach as she had done to obtain the cell phone, Laurie scratched at the cement floor and merely managed to push the desired object further away. With a deep moan, Laurie pushed herself off the ground and pulled herself up and over to the small crib. Her son lay inside, stretched out and breathing peacefully, blissfully ignorant of the danger surrounding him. Laurie delicately tugged at the square blanket that wrapped around the infant's body. The child squirmed and whimpered. Laurie froze and immediately began speaking to the infant in a soft and soothing tone.

"It's okay." She whispered. "Shh. You're alright. You're okay."

As she spoke, the child's eyelids fluttered and he drifted back into his deep sleep. Laurie held the blanket in her hands and returned back to her position on the hard ground. With a determined grunt, Laurie grasped the edges of the blanket and thrust it over the spot where her prey laid. Ever so carefully, Laurie began tugging the blanket back towards her and couldn't hold back the smile that overtook her lips when she heard the metal scrapping against the cement. As it became in reach, Laurie first patted down the now soiled blanket until all the dirt and dust were removed and returned it to her baby. Only after that did she allow herself to grab the small object. Her fingers quivering with the newfound hope that laid in the palm of her hand, Laurie hastily took it in her fingers and brought it by her ankles. The metal crashed against the lock several times as Laurie trembled. Finally, it slid into the small hole and Laurie twisted it as a small and unpermitted bout of laughter leapt from her throat. The sudden fit turned to childish giggles as the chains fell to the ground with a satisfying clamor. She could hardly control herself as the joy overtook her. She had not felt such a thing in a very long time and never wanted to let the sensation go. But it surely passed and Laurie gradually returned to the dark reality of her situation. Sure, she was now free to walk about and move freely, but to where? It was in that moment that she recalled the walls.

When Laurie was eight years old, she was moved into yet another new home and put under the care of a farmer and his wife. They had six other foster children in the aged and large farmhouse besides herself. The husband and wife were honest and hardworking individuals who simply loved children. The wife was barren and they could simply not afford adoption. Unfortunately, not all of the kids that they took in to their care believed this. Most of them came from broken homes and as a result had severe discipline problems. None of the kids enjoyed their chores and went to all possible lengths to avoid them. They feigned illness, hid in the barn's loft among the hay, or merely verbally refused and lashed out at the very adults attempting to help them. It was Laurie who discovered the best hiding place of them all.

" _I don't want to do it!" Laurie whined and crossed her arms._

" _Oh come on," the tall red-headed boy sneered, "what are you, chicken?"_

_The small group of children joined the boy in clucking noises and flapping their arms like the winged animal._

" _Okay, okay," Laurie sighed, "what is it, even?"_

" _It's like an elevator," the boy assured, "but smaller."_

" _Where does it go?"_

" _That's what you are going to find out, duh."_

" _How come I have to go down there?"_

" _Because you're the smallest," a blonde girl grinned mischievously._

" _You all always make fun of me 'cause I'm short."_

" _If you do this," the boy lied, "we promise to not make fun of you anymore. Now, come on, get in. They'll be back inside soon."_

_Laurie nervously glanced from the other children to the square door._

" _Fine," the red-head smiled, "if you're too scared –"_

" _I'm not scared." Laurie stomped her foot defiantly with her final word._

_The boy handed her a small flashlight and Laurie shoved it nervously in her back pocket. With an uneasy sigh, Laurie opened the small door and climbed clumsily inside. The slow descent was not as terrifying as the darkness that filled the small space._

" _Go all the way to the bottom!" Laurie faintly heard one of the children call out._

_She reluctantly obeyed and soon found herself in what appeared to be a basement. The ceiling was low as she discovered by attempting to stand. Rubbing the top of her head in pain, Laurie reached around her and carefully pulled the flashlight from her pocket. Its small beam provided insight as to where she truly was. Laurie leapt backwards suddenly and screamed as her face had been not an inch away from a dangling and fat black spider and its web. The girl shivered and attempted to shake off the overwhelming fear. A part of her desired to immediately retreat and go back up. Another piece of her, the curious and proud side, wanted to continue her exploration and not appear to be a "chicken" in front of the others. She took in a anxious and elongated breath before continuing on her journey. She ducked behind beams and climbed up into tight caverns. Then, she found it. The corridor narrowed and ended abruptly. Faint traces of light fought their way into the hidden place through minuscule crevices. Laurie's petite body could just fit comfortably in the corner and she squirmed her way down to the ground. She sat there for a moment, relishing in the silence that was so rare in such a crowded home. Her solitude was swiftly interrupted as she suddenly heard the murmur of familiar voices._

" _Laurie? Laurie?"_

_Laurie hurriedly glanced around, expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. No one came. She listened again and soon realized the voices were not coming from inside her secret tunnels. They were the voices of the other children, still in the kitchen, unaware that she was just feet away on the other side of the room._

" _Ronny! Look what you did!"_

" _What? I didn't do nothing!"_

" _What if she's trapped down there?"_

" _You think a monster got her?"_

" _Laurie!"_

" _Shut up! They are gonna hear you and –"_

" _What are you children doing inside hollering?"_

" _Nothin'" They all responded in unison and Laurie couldn't help but giggle at her guilty foster siblings._

" _Well come on now, you all got chores to be done. I know they're not fun but – wait, where's Laurie?"_

_There was an obvious pause._

" _Dunno" one boy mumbled._

" _Haven't seen her," an older boy chimed in._

_Laurie pulled her legs to her chest and rested her head against her knees. She stopped listening at that point and simply closed her eyes, silently enjoying her new discovery and best friend._


	21. Entrapment

" _Come on, it'll be fun," the young boy tugged gingerly on the girl's arm._

_"That's what you said last time," she snorted, "when we broke into the old hospital and who was the one who ended up locked inside the basement for three hours with ghosts?"_

_"I got you out, didn't I?"_

_"Yeah, but I was still scared."_

_"There ain't no ghosts in that old building anyway."_

_"Are too! Tamara says she saw one once when she was walking home from school. And Tyler said –"_

_"I don't care what Tyler said!" the boy suddenly snapped with more rage than expected._

_The girl let her mouth hang open a bit before allowing herself to take a breath. Sometimes her best friend's intensity scared her, but she still couldn't help but feel comforted by how much even just his name upset him. After everything Tyler did to her, she was relieved that someone like Derek Morgan had her back._

_After a few more moments of silence and tip toed walking, the girl finally got her attitude back._

_"What are we even doing, Derek? Breaking into school? I hate it here. You hate it here. So why break in?"_

_"Because we can," Derek replied with a devious smirk. "Look, we start 6th grade tomorrow. Summer is over, gone. I say we have one last night of fun. Let's make this a first day of school no one will forget."_

_The girl smiled nervously. She loved his crazed adventures and wild schemes that usually got them in trouble with their parents, school, police, or all three. Still, she secretly wasn't particularly fond of this planned act of vandalism. To be completely honest with herself, she actually liked school. She would never admit it to Derek; even though she had a feeling he would be one of the few who wouldn't make fun of her. School was an escape. For seven hours she was away from her home, from her parents, from Tyler. Anything that got here away from that was a blessing._

The distant memory faded as Morgan's mind turned over from black. It was still dark and Derek faintly realized that his eyes were closed. It was an odd thing not to notice. The childhood memory had played out in front of his unconscious mind so vividly; he wasn't sure what was real or imagined. Now, slowly returning to lucidity, his mind wavered, followed by a dull throbbing against his skull. This though, was certainly no delusion. The pain was real, and it was intense. It was that consistent pulsing that pulled him back to the surface of reality and Morgan cautiously opened his eyes. The surrounding scenery remained hazy for a time and Derek squinted, desperately attempting to obtain some sense of where he was. As his sight gradually returned, Morgan feebly attempted to stand. It was then that he realized another harsh reality. The coarse rope chafed against the skin of his wrists and the bottom of his black jean pants as he struggled to release his ankles. He glanced down at his bindings in aggravation. He could hardly see them through the dim light that engulfed the room. Small cracks in the ceiling were the only source of light for his place of entrapment. He wondered if he was still even in that same decrepit farmhouse or somewhere entirely different.

The image of Laurie Bridges faded into his mind and he silently feared for her. He could see her desperate eyes and matted hair as if she was sitting right in front of him. Soon, the illusion began to shift and it was no longer Laurie that cowered before Derek. The woman Morgan was now watching possessed the same flowing dark locks and striking emerald facets for eyes as Laurie. The freckles and pale skin could have come from the same gene pool. This woman though, was reaching out to him with a shivering hand. She called out his name in a voice that was markedly coarser than Laurie's soft alto tone. Morgan quickly remembered the chains of that basement, recalled the bruises and markings that decorated Laurie's flesh. Those same wounds now covered the girl in front of him. He imagined her, locked away somewhere, alone and terrified. His mind continued down the path to places he did not wish it to go. Morgan did not have to ask to know that Laurie's child was also Daniel's. She had been in captivity far too long to have had him by any other man. He agonizingly and reluctantly wondered if this woman too had come to have a child with this monster. His thoughts wandered and he could not help but think of the terrible things this strange man must have had done to her.

The girl reached out again, her voice growing louder and angrier. He slammed his eyelids shut but the image was created by his mind and therefore remained to haunt him even with his eyes closed. His mind continued its tricks and he could not help but wonder how things would have turned out if he had only tried harder, only had cared more. The truth was, he did care, he cared a great deal about her. Derek Morgan, female aficionado and self-admitted player, could not bring himself to admit it out loud, but he had truly and wholly loved her.

With the unbearable agony of the sudden onset of memories and emotions, Morgan could hardly control himself. He wanted to lash out, break free of his restraints and strangle this murderer with his bare hands, for all the women he hurt, for Laurie, for Reid and for the woman he had once loved. He longed to reach back in time, to change what was and what would be. He desired to go back and tell her, just once, how he felt, how his heart burst into flames and butterflies at the same time when he saw her, how sometimes he found it hard to breathe when he heard her voice and how stubborn, proud, beautiful, and unfathomably amazing she really was. Morgan would never get to do any of that. He would never be able to see her again, to touch or hold her again. He knew he had himself to blame for running away for so long. But it was the monster who was now holding him captive that had took her light from this world. It was in that moment that Derek made a promise to himself and his deceased love. With every ounce of rage and confidence left within him, Morgan promised to stop this man, even if it cost him his life.


	22. Whispers in the Dark

_Derek clenched the steering wheel until all of the nervous sweat emitting from his palms soaked into the material and his rough knuckles grew pale. His loose thumbs drummed against each other in cut time against the lethargic beat that hollered from his speakers. His mind hardly comprehended the overbearing music or his obvious anxious tick. He barely paid attention to the gang bangers eyeing him suspiciously or the countless drug deals and transactions that were taken place. It was unfortunate, but these circumstances were the norm for him. This wasn't simply because he had now spent his first official year wearing a Chicago PD badge. This was his life, played out by strangers. Different people, different streets, but the same story. Besides the lack of shock factor, Morgan's mind was only thinking about one thing. He wasn't on patrol. He wasn't even on duty as of three hours earlier. His badge and gun were resting temporarily in his glove compartment and his squad car was replaced by the black beater he bought after getting out of college. Tonight, he was just part of the masses, an onlooker. And he sure was looking. His determined eyes locked with every young white female on every sidewalk, every street corner. He scanned every brunette who leaned up against a car window or puffed a cigarette. Some failed to notice, others beckoned him with their smiles, while still others arched their necks, crossed their arms and sent him a mistrustful glare._

_Things were different now. Some of these people might recognize his face after all these years, might even remember his name. Years ago, he was on the other side of the car window. Someone was driving by slowly searching for him. All those times though, he had been with her. Now he was the driver and he was alone. His stomach felt knotted and his heart began to deplete any trace of hope._

_Every night. Every night for the past – however many days he could no longer count – Derek drove back and forth, up and down; looking, praying, for her._

_His thoughts and his vehicle slammed to an abrupt halt and Derek froze. He mumbled something underneath his shaking breath and half doubted his own vision. It couldn't be. It simply couldn't be. He had known the road she was heading down, had seen her running, tumbling towards it. This though, this just made it real. It made the feeling in his stomach lurch into his throat and the hope of finding her be crushed by what he had actually found. He cleared his throat, loosened his deadly grip, and released his foot from the flattened brake pedal. The vehicle slowly inched forward as his target separated from the group and began her way down a nearby and quieter street. Morgan simply gawked after her, continuing his sluggish speed._

_The girl paused for a moment, rubbing her arms as if chilled and casually glancing around her. She began to move forward again, but this time took obvious and calculated steps, her posture stiffened and her eyes alert. Morgan was far too distracted to notice her fear and pushed the car door open the second she stopped walking. He was already only a foot or so away from her when she had continued on her way. It was stupid, and Derek knew it. He should just call out her name, say something, anything. Still, he was dumbstruck. His mouth would not have been able to form words if he had even tried. He gained some distance and reached a trembling hand out to the bare shoulder. The girl shrieked and spun around. Morgan barely noticed the silver glint coming towards him before ducking out of the way. The metal slid against his forearm and he felt his skin open up._

_"Get away from me! Stay back!"_

_"Whoa, whoa whoa!" Derek threw his arms up again, this time cautious of getting another flesh wound. "Hey, hey, it's me, it's me."_

_The girl stopped, knife in mid-air and wearing an expression that cannot be described in mere words. The mix of fear, horror, shock, rage, joy, and confusion all rushed to her cheekbones, pursed lips and darting eyes._

_"What the hell are you doing here Derek?" She hissed, sliding the blade back into her pocket._

_"What do you think? I was looking all over for you."_

_"Well, you found me. Now what?"_

_"Can we just talk?"_

_"We have nothing to talk about."_

_"What happened Dana? This isn't the life you want, is it? Is this the kind of job of want to be doing?"_

_"Oh," Dana scoffed bitterly, "I'm sorry that my particular form of employment is not as prestigious or righteous as yours!"_

_"Oh come on, Dana, we both know it isn't like that. You were going somewhere. You're grades were always better than mine in school. You're smart, real smart. You were going to go to college –"_

_"That's all the past," Dana shook her head and mumbled, "things are different now. I'm different. You're sure as hell different. I don't have money for college. Besides, what gives you the right to hand out advice and lectures like you're some saint who knows it all? Huh? Where have you been? You haven't been there for me! You got involved in that youth center and just disappeared! You became Mr. Popularity at school with all that basketball shit and then went off to college. Did you even think about me when you were off 'going somewhere'?"_

_"Yeah, I did."_

_"Really? What'd you think about, huh?"_

_"Look, Dana, I – some – some stuff happened to me. I never told you – I couldn't. It was – is – something I got to deal with on my own– and – I don't know. Then things just – changed."_

_"Derek, 'stuff' happens to everyone, even Derek Morgan, football star. You deal with it or you run away. You ran away and forgot about me."_

_"You know that's not true."_

_"Listen, Derek, I'm tired. I have work to do. So, either arrest me or leave me alone."_

Derek pulled himself out of the terrible memory and sighed. They were the last words she spoke to him. The last time he found her. He had tried to make contact with her during the case with Jerry Hansen, but she refused to even see him and the police and FBI were both willing to accommodate her, seeing as they already thought Derek was far to close to the victim to be involved in the investigation in the first place.

Morgan closed his eyes, again attempting to push the memories and images out of his head. He was dangerously close to falling apart as her face reflected his mind. Her face, this time portrayed in a picture, was still, eyelids lightly shut and her long hair draped down in a tangled mess. He had seen so many faces of so many families and loved ones as they were shown pictures of their daughter's, sister's, wife's or girlfriend's lifeless body. Morgan himself had seen countless photographs and real bodies, drained of all personality of all spirit, reduced to flesh and bones, nothing more. He had looked at these victims and watched the reactions of loved ones but had never truly comprehended the exact feeling until then. His lips quivered and tears begged to be released from his cold stare.

"I'm sorry," his voice cracked and he choked back the overwhelming emotions. "I'm so sorry."

There was a moment of silence as Morgan bowed his weary head. Then, out of the darkness, in the stillness of the moment, Derek could hear the faintest of whispers and his body stiffened with dread and hope.


	23. Still Trapped

"I can't just sit around here and do nothing," Emily groaned, "why are we here? Why aren't we out, looking for Morgan and Reid?"

"There are uniforms at Daniel Griffin's home and the drop site of the phones," Hotch reassured in a flat manner, "if he surfaces, we'll catch him."

"But this guy is smart," JJ sighed, "he knows Reid and Morgan are federal agents. "Won't he just run?"

"We've got roadblocks set up," Hotch stated firmly, "he's not leaving the area."

"Besides," Emily sighed thoughtfully, "I don't know if he can leave."

"What do you mean," JJ rolled her head back in confusion.

"Well, this guy is reliving his wife's death. Every single murder follows the same pattern. He might not be able to move on to a new area until he kills Laurie."

"Unless he already has and we just haven't found her body yet," JJ groaned solemnly.

"Wait a minute," Rossi took a step towards the bulletin board, "Emily, you said he is reliving his wife's death. If he is doing just that, then why keep them for so long?"

"Garcia," Hotch spoke slowly to the computer, beginning to understand where his teammate was headed, "how much time was in between each woman going missing and their death?"

"Well, not all of the women were reported missing and some of the bodies were found way later and –"

"Just give me the ones you have," Hotch advised.

"Uh, okay. Bethany Borchardt was missing for three months, before that was Maureen Evans, nine months, before her was Sarah Skaletski, 11 months, Charlotte Wood, 10 months, Stephanie Miller, four months, looking at records and credit card reports I can estimate Dana Carter, Valerie Burke and Eva Gardner at 10 to 12 months –"

"That's good," Hotch interjected, "thank you, Garcia."

"Oh my –" JJ cut herself off as her mind worked its way through the numbers. "You don't think –" she trailed off, unable to finish her own sentence.

"Garcia, pull up the autopsy reports of each of the victims –"

"Sir, there were no autopsies done on any of these women except one. They just assumed suicide."

"Well, check on the one we do have. See if there was any sign that the victim was pregnant or gave birth shortly before her death."

"Oh – oh my – right, sir. On it."

The computer image of Penelope and her horrified gaze blinked and disappeared. There was an unsteady silence between the team members. No one dared to say it, but they all could feel it. They were helpless.

"There's something you all should know," Hotch began carefully as the team turned expectantly to him. "Strauss is threatening to put a new team on the case. She believes we're too close to this now and with the fact that we're down two men –"

"She can't do that." JJ shook her head solemnly.

"Unfortunately, she can. So, we need to prove to her that she is wrong, and quickly."

"Okay," Emily started, attempting to bottle her contempt for the woman, "so, he's recreating his wife's death  _and_ her pregnancy? That can't be easy. He takes the girl, okay, but they can't all be getting pregnant right away."

"But some of them had to of," Rossi sighed, "eight women. The odds are there." He paused, looking over the information. "And then there's Bethany Borchardt and Stephanie Miller, only three and four months"

"Maybe they didn't get pregnant or something went wrong with the pregnancy." JJ shrugged.

"And the minute he thinks he's lost his child, no matter what the reason, his mind reverts back to what it knows." Emily added.

"He's compelled to kill these girls that he sees as his wife after the loss of the child, because that's all he knows." Rossi nodded. "Like we said before, he's stuck in the cycle."

A noise sounded from the computer and Garcia's uncharacteristically cheerless face reappeared.

"That was fast," Emily noted.

"Well, I'm still working on the autopsy report as we speak but I thought you would like to know about this. Despite the fact that we had no physical evidence, yours truly has gotten you your warrant."

Hotch turned away from the group, his cell phone hugged against his ear. Within seconds, he clapped the device shut and returned.

"Officers say that Daniel Griffin has not yet returned to his home. So, we know he's not there but –"

"Laurie could be," JJ's eyes grew wide, "and maybe Reid and Morgan."

"Prentiss, you and –"

"Wait," Garcia yelped excitedly, interrupting her boss, "got it! Charlotte Wood's autopsy report. She's the only one who had one because the family requested it. She was a successful paralegal at a large firm with a fiancé and toddler. They didn't believe that she really just ran off for ten months and then killed herself. It looks like the report agrees with the police, suicide. But – oh my gosh – uh, here, it says that during the autopsy they discovered that not long before Charlotte died, she had a miscarriage."

"This has got to be what he's doing," Emily nodded.

"Garcia, check local hospital and police records. Check for any abandon infants or anything suspicious that coincides with the murders. If Charlotte Wood had a miscarriage, that might have been what triggered Daniel to kill her."

"The baby dies, just like it did before, and he snaps." Prentiss agreed.

"Do you think that's why Laurie's still alive?" JJ questioned.

"That would be the only reason he would still be keeping her," Hotch concluded, "We now have four people to find, Morgan, Reid, Laurie – and her baby."

Laurie trembled as she held her baby close to her chest. She wondered if the infant could feel her throbbing heart as she lifted herself into yet another dark and cramped area. She could occasionally feel creatures skitter across her bare feet and had to bite her tongue to cage any terrified squeals. She quickly rounded a corner, batting her way through yet another thick and sticky cobweb. Leaning back in exhaustion, she could feel the wall shift and creak. She hopefully spun around and pulled at the decrepit wooden panel with her free hand. It reluctantly gave way to her and she almost released a spell of laughter. Containing herself, Laurie slid through the opening and ambled into the new room. Glancing around quickly, Laurie found the door and hurried to it. Her hand was greeted with air as it reached for a doorknob. She dropped her head and stared blankly at the rusted and broken handle that rested on the floor.

Laurie turned and gingerly setting her sleeping child in the top drawer of an aged dresser that was the only piece of furniture left in the room. Making sure her son was safe, Laurie diverted her attention back to the door. With what little strength she had left, she pushed her body against the heavy wooden obstacle to no avail. Sighing, Laurie retreated and took her son back into her arms. She glanced around at the windowless room, free from her chains, but still trapped.


	24. A Happy Ending

"Dave and Prentiss are on their way to the house," Hotch spoke as he exited the vehicle and slid his phone back in his pocket. "Police are waiting for them to enter. They'll let us know if they find anything."

"Okay," JJ sighed as she followed Hotch through the double doors, "so, this is the hospital Daniel Griffin brought a baby to one month ago."

"Garcia confirmed that it was him on the security camera." Hotch nodded.

"So, you kidnap a girl, get her pregnant, but then bring the baby to a hospital? Why wasn't he worried about getting caught?"

"In his mind, he probably thinks of Laurie as his wife. He doesn't think he is kidnapping her or doing anything wrong."

"So, he always kept his wife against her will."

"It wouldn't be surprising to find that he was abusive to Gina when she was alive. What he's doing, is normal to him. He fully believes these women are his wife. When something goes wrong, the child dies, his mind can't accept the truth so he kills the girls and then it starts all over again."

Their conversation ended as they approached the front desk and a stout brunette offered them a generic smile.

"Can I help you?"

"Jennifer Jareau, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, FBI, I spoke with you on the phone a few minutes ago."

"Oh, right, well, Dr. Williamson is finishing up with a patient and will be able to speak with you. If you'd please like to wait in our employee lounge, it's right around the corner to your left."

"Thank you, but, actually, do you mind if we ask you a couple of questions first?" JJ prompted.

"I'm sorry, but I've got an entire waiting room of screaming kids, and a high school football game that turned violent."

"It will only take a minute."

The nurse glanced over at the chaotic crowd of potential patients and then back over at the agents with a sigh and nodded.

"How often do you work this front desk?" Hotch spoke up.

"I hurt my back real bad a few months ago when a patient decided he didn't want to be saved. They were bringing him in from a car accident, all hopped up on PCP and all that junk. He punched the doctor in the face and pushed me down the stairs. I've been sitting in this chair almost every day ever since. Can't afford to fire me and you can bet I'd have one hell of a law suit thrown at them if they ever tried."

"Do you remember, this man?" Hotch questioned, showing the woman the security photograph on his tablet. "He came in about a month ago with a newborn."

"Do you have any idea how many people I see each day? How many babies?"

"Please," JJ urged softly, "just try to remember. It's very important."

"I don't know," the nurse sighed, "he looks sort of familiar. I do remember some guy coming in, maybe it was a month ago already. He – uh – he brought in a baby, yeah, a newborn boy. He was acting sort of, strange."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, he said he found it, but couldn't remember where. Later on, he says he found him in an alley while taking a walk, like he just remembered all of a sudden. He spoke with the doctor I think. When I asked him to stay to talk to the police, he just got up and left." She paused and glanced to her side. "Oh, here's Dr. Williamson now. You can join her in the lounge."

"Thank you," JJ nodded and turned, following Hotch down the hall.

"Well, from the sounds of it, agents, the nurse told you just about everything," Dr. Williamson started after listening to JJ. "There was one thing though that seemed sort of odd. When I spoke with him, he seemed almost surprised that the baby was alive. He kept asking me if he was alive and if I was sure. It was like he didn't believe me."

"And the baby?" JJ prompted, worry evident on her face.

"The baby was fine. A home birth, obviously. Some of his nutrients levels were a little low which would have been a result of a poor diet on the mother's part. My guess would be the mother was malnourished. Otherwise, he was perfectly healthy. A miracle from what you're telling me. That poor girl." She paused and sighed. "Anyway, then, suddenly, the next day he was taken. We called the police but whoever took him was long gone. He attacked one of the nurses here to take him. She said it was the same man that brought him in."

"Thank you very much for your time," JJ offered a polite smile to the woman and stood.

"Oh, agents," the doctor suddenly spoke up as the two were reaching the door. "There was one more thing. This might sound crazy but it stuck with me. I don't know why. The man, he was dressed in a suit like he was from the city, he looked polished, professional. But then – there was that smell. He smelled like – like a farm. Does that help?"

"It does," Hotch nodded and lead his teammate out the door. As they stepped outside, Hotch already had his phone to his ear. "Garcia? I need you to check on farms in the area. Check owners, see if any of the names or information matches any of the names Daniel Griffin has used. Also look for any abandon farmland or property. Anything that might help. We think he's keeping her on a farm." He returned the device to his pocket as he reached his car door.

"What is this guy doing, Hotch?" JJ asked in an exasperated tone.

"I'm not sure," Aaron spoke evenly, "but at least if Prentiss and Dave don't find anything at the house, we know where to start looking."

JJ shivered internally. It wasn't something she did knowingly, but she could not help it. The loathing for farms had been rooted deep inside Jennifer for years now. She found it difficult to not look at a barn without hearing the vicious barking of dogs or smell the countryside without also smelling the devoured human flesh and blood of the woman the savage animals had torn to pieces. She looked at a corn field and imagined Reid being dragged away by Tobias Hankel. Needless to say, she avoided the country at all costs and was not keen on returning to it. She also couldn't help but carry an immense sense of fear for those trapped inside such a house. She imagined Laurie Bridges, screaming out in agony as she gave birth to her son, no one for miles to be able to hear it. She wondered if her friends were still alive and if they would ever even find their bodies with vast countryside to search. In the end though, despite how much she loved her teammates and feared for them, she could not derail her mind from the baby.

"I just hope they find them at the house and this is all over with," JJ sighed, climbing into the vehicle, hoping and praying for this case to be one of those that actually turned out to have a happy ending for a change.


	25. Hopes and Fears

Prentiss and Rossi wasted little time as they hurried to Daniel Griffin's home. They entered and both half expected out of sheer naïve hope that they would promptly find and rescue their teammates, thus also finding and rescuing Laurie Bridges and her child. Instead, they were greeted with only a modest home and an odd aroma. As the two finished their search of the house, they regrouped in the living room.

"What is that?" Prentiss questioned, making a distinct face.

"It almost smells like, a farm," Rossi spoke in a curious manner.

"In the middle of suburbia and barely a five minute drive away from the city." Emily sighed sarcastically. "That makes sense."

"It doesn't look he spends much time here," Dave noted, walking down the hall.

"Who has time to be at home when you're out playing salesman and kidnapper?"

The two turned and examined the master bedroom with more careful eyes this time. They had explored the entire house, searching for people. Now it was time to let the house tell them where to look.

Rossi nudged the closet door open and immediately called over to Emily. Without a word, he backed away so that his teammate could see what he had found.

"Not exactly something you wear to a sales pitch," Rossi noted as Emily glanced down at the tattered and muddy boots. Her eyes fell to the open spot next to them and the dirt that decorated the carpet.

"Looks like there's another pair that usually go here." She pointed at the imprints. "Now that's just in bad taste. Leather shoes and Armani pushed up against wife beaters and steel toed boots."

She turned around and continued to scan the room, drawing closer to the bed. Her gaze paused and she leaned forward, her brow narrowing.

"Hey, Rossi, check this out," her gloved fingers traced scratches and markings that screamed out against the original and beautiful mahogany bedposts.

Sharing a glance with her teammate, Emily pulled back the heavy comforter and was greeted with a pale green sheet, sprinkled with scarlet smudges.

"If he doesn't think he's actually doing anything wrong and left his sheets like this, I'd put my money on Laurie Bridges' DNA all over this bed and her fingerprints on these posts."

"So, he kept her here first," Rossi thought aloud, "why move her?"

"Maybe if Morgan confronted him, he got scared, panicked?"

"I don't know. This is a pretty high-risk area to keep a girl locked up. There was no sign of any other place here that he kept her. The basement is spotless and this house doesn't have an attic or shed."

"Also," Emily agreed, "if this is the only evidence of Laurie being in this house is on this bed, unless he changed the sheets, there's only old blood. There's no way she had her baby here."

"Then the question remains, where is he keeping her now?"

"I just hope that wherever it is, Morgan and Reid are there too, and alive."

Morgan took in a calculated and silent breath, steadying his body as to not move. Sitting in the blackest of dark, Derek was not sure if the noise was merely a trick of his desperate mind or a piece of a resurfacing memory. He waited, unsure if he was hoping to hear it again or that if he did he would then know he was truly insane. It couldn't be. It just couldn't. Yet, it was. His head had been overflowing with images and thoughts of his childhood friend and first love and it had sounded. If not for the utter stillness in the air, one would have never noticed the hushed plea. It was faint and muffled, but Derek had understood the words perfectly. Someone in the dark had been calling out his name. But, no, it was impossible. He knew she was dead. He had stared at her lifeless body in those awful photographs. In such a low whisper, the voice had been nearly unidentifiable, but Morgan's heart still fluttered. He closed his eyes and concentrated, willing the sound to come again.

"Morgan?"

This time, the noise grew louder, although still caught in the speaker's voice. It failed to matter. Derek recognized that voice anywhere. His heart literally stopped for a full second as his breath tangled in his lungs. He felt as if he was back playing football and had been sacked, the wind completely knocked out of him. Only minutes ago had he been imagining the worst for his friend, and now, there was the voice. No, he had to be certain. He had to know that it wasn't in his head. Grunting in frustration and determination, Morgan pulled with all of his strength on his bindings. Having no luck, Derek began to twist himself back and forth, again and again until the chair he was bound to began to edge across He continued to toss and writhe, slowly making his way towards the black corner where the voice had quietly emerged from moments earlier. The shadowed figure slowly came into view and Morgan froze as what he had hoped and feared to be real came to be known as truth in his eyes. Derek's voice caught and all he could form was one single word.

"Reid?"


	26. Beaten and Broken

Derek gasped and quickly leaned forward over his feeble friend. Morgan's wide eyes followed a crimson trail of liquid down the side of the boy's head to a small gash lining his chin. The same bindings that held Morgan were also bound around his friend's wrists and legs, except this agent was not strapped to a chair. There was no need. His body was beaten and his spirit broken. His eyelids fluttered and then opened, connecting with Derek's instantly…

"Morgan – what –"

"Damn it, kid, I thought you were dead."

"I thought I was too," Reid coughed, "Why hasn't he killed us yet?"

"I don't know, man. Laurie's here," he paused, "and her son."

"Her son? We never got any information that Laurie Bridges had a son."

"She didn't," Morgan bit off the words, "until after she was taken."

"Of course," Spencer spoke in his usual frantic voice as he did when coming to a key realization, "he can't just relive his wife's death. That wouldn't make sense with the time in between each kidnapping. I couldn't figure out why he kept them for so long. He's not just trying to relive the events that lead up to his wife's death, subconsciously he's trying to recreate them. But his mind doesn't know how to handle it now. Think about it, out of eight women, not all of them would have gotten pregnant and when the time is up, he has no choice but to end it the only way he knows it can end. And then you add in the poor living conditions. Maybe other women had children, but they didn't survive. When the child dies, he again has to end it how he knows it ends."

"But this time it's different," Morgan spoke as he continued to struggle against his restraints, "Laurie did have a child and so far he's survived."

"Laurie has been missing the longest out of all of the women, which means her baby has probably survived the longest. As long as that child is safe, so is Laurie."

"What about us? Laurie told me he kills anyone who trespasses here. Why not us?"

"He probably doesn't know what to do. None of what is happening now fits into what his mind knows.

"Well, he took our phones, badges and guns," Morgan reasoned, "so the man's got some sense left."

"I doubt this is his first time coming up against the law. In his delusion, he believes Laurie is his wife."

"Then why chain her up? Why keep her prisoner?"

"Exactly. I don't think Daniel Griffin was such an innocent or model husband before. Someone is this kind of a psychotic break wouldn't be this organized. I also don't think Gina was the innocent victim. The two most likely shared some twisted sense of love and loyalty to one another. Daniel's an alpha male and Gina will do anything to please him."

"So when she can't give him the child that he wants, she feels that she can't please him and kills herself." Morgan nodded. "Before, after I fell, Daniel Griffin had a rifle aimed at my face and was seconds away from killing me. He didn't even flinch. Laurie begged him not to. She played along with him. She told him that I saved  _their_ baby."

"She's probably been playing along for most of the time to survive."

"He actually listened to her though. Alpha males don't take orders from their wives, or anyone. So this guy actually does love his son on some warped level." Derek paused and huffed. "

As he spoke, latches began to clack and twist. Reid feebly pushed himself up, supporting himself by leaning against the wall. His entire body pulsed of memories of fists and the bottom of Daniel Griffin's boots. Morgan swiftly arched his back and tensed, ready for anything.

"What is it Garcia?" Hotch questioned as her face appeared on the screen in front of the agents.

"Well, I've been going through everything in my head and in my wealth of digital skills, anything to get my boys back. I've ran so many names, cross-references, and scoured so many databases I could probably now write a book on the entire town –"

"Garcia," Hotch prompted.

"Right, um, well, I'm no profiler, but I still thought there might be some connection to Shawn Summers and Laurie Bridges, but like before, I came up with nothing. That was, until I did a little bit of digging and weaving and putting together. I checked out the security footage from that pizza place where our friendly neighborhood drug deal hangs out. Shawn passes by the store like once a day, if not more. I had JJ contact the family and –" Garcia trailed off, allowing her friend to take the stage.

"Hank Summers remembered that his son spoke of a friend named Drake. That's all he would call him, but he talked about him constantly, like they were best friends."

"Makes sense," Rossi nodded, "Shawn is detached from his father. He seeks out an older male to act as his mentor."

"By now, Shawn probably looks to Drake more like a brother than a friend." Emily added.

"I think it's time we found this mystery man," Rossi suggested.


	27. Better This Way

"So," Daniel growled, stroking his weapon, "you two are with the FBI?"

Derek flexed his wrists underneath his now tighter restraints and glanced around the new surroundings. They were back where they started. Derek could easily see the front entrance to his side. Past that, his eyes fell on the collapsed floor and his body immediately recalled the agony of the drop. His head throbbed again, this time in a new spot and silently wondered how long he had been out this time. He had been unconscious three times now and found himself foggy of if it was all still even the same day. His eyes quickly scanned the room for his next concern. Across the living area, his gaze met with Reid's and they shared a knowing glance. He, too, was now bound to a chair as Morgan was and the sight was almost too much for the agent to handle. The last time he had seen his friend strapped to a chair, he had watched him beaten and drugged almost to death. The flashbacks were inevitable and rushed through Morgan's mind simultaneously. The images were swiftly interrupted as Morgan felt a sharp twinge against his cheek and opened his eyes to see Daniel's hand drawing away from him.

"I asked you a question."

"Yes," Morgan bit off, "we're with the FBI."

"Are you trespassers too?"

"No."

"Then you're liars!" Daniel's palm met Derek's face again and the agent allowed his head to flinch, but his eyes never once softened. "It's always trespassers. Always. Breaking in on me and my family."

"Your family," Derek spat, "is a nineteen year old girl who you kidnapped and raped."

"Liar!" Daniel hollered and brought his heavy boot down to the ground in anger.

"Mr. Griffin," a soft voice interjected from behind and Daniel spun around with a scowl aimed at Reid. "I know that you love your family. I know that you love your son and would do anything to protect him."

"You bet I would. That includes killing people like you who come and try to take him away from me."

"We don't want to take him away from you," Reid feigned compassion as best as he could. "He is your son and we wouldn't want to do that to your family. But, keeping him here, it's not safe for him. It's not safe for your wife either. They're going to die if you keep them locked up. Your son – he needs doctors and – and warmth and fresh air."

"All he needs is his family."

"He does need his family, but – he needs to be healthy too. What about your wife? She's sick."

"How do you know that?" Daniel roared.

"She's been tired, right, sleeping a lot. When you – when you –" his stomach knotted at the words and he wanted to gag, "make love to her, she becomes weak. She can barely walk and soon she'll hardly be able to talk and then she won't be able to take care of your son anymore."

"My wife is strong. She agreed to this. It was better for the whole family that no one knew. It's better this way."

"How is it better if she dies?" Reid attempted to again portray empathy. "How is it better if you lose them?

"I won't lose them. I won't. I'm protecting them. I'm protecting them by keeping people like you away from them."

"Fine," Morgan huffed, "Then why don't you kill us already? Huh?"

"I haven't killed you because my  _wife_ claims that you saved our child! You're alive because I choose to keep you alive for now!"

"Mr. Griffin," Spencer interjected, "I understand that this might seem confusing. Everything is different? It doesn't make sense? I understand. I can help you, if you'd like. I can help you clear your mind."

"The only thing I would like, is to be left alone!"

Daniel's voice boomed and without warning, he brought his shotgun up and aimed directly at the agent. He fired before Morgan could even find the words to protest. Derek watched his friend tip over to the ground in the chair that still held him captive and screamed out in grief, his cry, he imagined, echoed by that of a woman's, faint and in agony.

Emily watched as the teenage eyes found and scorned her. She never did expect friendly glances to come her way consider the job she possessed and the work these people did. It was obvious to any onlooker that the two adults were not frequent visitors of this particular neighborhood, especially this specific alleyway. Some kids slipped away in fear while others pathetically attempted to hide their illegal activities. Both agents ignored them. They weren't there to make arrests of every criminal in the city. Their sights were honed in on one person and one person only. They flashed his picture to a few safer faces, but no one dared to say a word. A couple individuals offered a head nod in the correct direction, but nothing more.

Prentiss and Rossi rounded a corner and paused where they stood. Emily recognized the female half of the little party immediately and waited for their faces to separate before speaking.

"So, you  _were_  blushing." Prentiss cocked an eyebrow at the girl.

"Don't talk to these guys, Drake," Kaitlin warned, "they're FBI."

"FBI?" The man glanced at the two adults and then suddenly pushed Kaitlin towards them. Emily caught the girl before she could stumble to the ground as Rossi made a sprint towards Drake.

The chase led them out into the open streets. Drake knocked down any person in his way and managed to crash over an oversized garbage can as he rounded to turn down another alleyway. He bolted to the end and leapt up onto the metal fence blocking his escape. As he climbed, a sudden force pulled violently on his leg, bringing his body collapsing to the pavement. He attempted to get up and around the agent, but Rossi had him by the shoulders and pressed up against the side of a brick building before he could even think about a counter move.


	28. Signs of Life

Morgan hesitated, wondering if he again might be hearing things. He followed the barrel of the gun across the room, past his fallen friend and to the wall. An ugly hole now decorated the already hideously decaying wooden wall. Derek's mind rewound itself as his heart pounded.

" _You have to go, now."_

" _Go? What are you –?"_

" _It's an old house," Laurie pleaded, "there – there's a place, over there. You can get into the walls. You have to hide. You – you have to hide or he'll kill you, please."_

" _Hey, listen to me. I'm not leaving you, got that?"_

Derek muttered curses under his breath and waited expectantly as Daniel explored the source of the commotion.

"What the hell?" Daniel mumbled and stared at the new hole, readying his weapon.

"Wait!" Morgan managed to speak finally.

"You giving me orders now, son? I don't –"

"It's – it's your, wife."

"What? That's impossible."

"Just look."

Daniel reluctantly set his rifle aside and stomped out of the room. Morgan released his breath and waited in agonizing silence. He could hear the man rustling about through the house as he diverted his attention back to his teammate. Blood drained from the new tear in his pants down to the floor.

"Reid," Morgan whispered harshly. "Reid, come on, man, wake up."

A soft moan emerged from the boy's lips and his eyes quivered open.

"If he keeps this up the two of us are going to have significant brain damage by the end of all this," Spencer mumbled.

"Hey, you could stand to drop a few IQ points. You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. I saw him lift his gun and just dropped."

"Better your leg than your head. You use that more." He paused, his own joking unable to distract him from the present situation.

Within seconds, Daniel reappeared, gripping the handle of a large ax. Morgan's eyes widened as he began to swing away at the aged wall. He stayed high and Derek prayed that Daniel's irrational actions would not injure the girl even more. After several swings, Daniel threw down the hatchet and began pulling at the boards. It wasn't long before Morgan could see strands of brown hair behind Daniel's body. Derek arched his neck as to see behind their capture. The girl was slumped down, her disheveled hair hiding her face. Morgan's mind flashed back to the pictures of the women, hanging from the ceiling of those awful motels. He watched as she didn't move and quickly lost hope. Daniel growled under his breath, mixing curses with confusion. Bending down, he scooped who he thought to be his wife into his arms and hurriedly carried her over to the center of the room. As her body met the floor, a soft and faint moan emerged from her throat and her head turned to one side. Both Reid and Morgan watched in amazement as Laurie Bridges showed signs of life.

Reid suddenly became aware of a sharp tugging sensation and his attention was swiftly brought away from the girl. His chair quickly became upright again and he felt his bindings coming lose. Spencer glanced down as Daniel Griffin was finishing untying his left leg and cocked his head in confusion. Morgan or Hotch would have charged the man full force. Emily would have sent a swift and perfect kick to his face. Rossi would have spun free and used the chair as a weapon, bringing it across Daniel's head. Even JJ or Garcia might have thought of something creative to take the kidnapper down in that second of freedom. Reid knew that those types of heroic actions did not work out as well for him. He was beaten and beyond physically and mentally weak. He was barely processing what exactly was happening when a sharp pain intruded on his body, the source pulsing from his leg. Spencer glanced down to find Daniel's grip surrounding the recent wound on Reid's leg. The man pushed down on the deep abrasion with his fingers and the agent yelped in a fit of pain.

"Now," Daniel commanded, "don't you even think about trying to run."

His voice was firm, but Reid also sensed something else glazing over the sentence; fear. He was actually worried about his "wife", fearing for her life.

The threat was futile as Reid only was granted less than a second of freedom as Daniel returned him to a similar form of his previous captivity. This time, instead of behind him, his wrists came together at his stomach. The rope extended down and wrapped around his ankles. He surely was not making any heroic escape attempts now. Daniel grabbed the agent, pulling him from the chair and pushing him onto the hard ground. Reid nearly fell forward, his face coming down next to Laurie's.

"Help her." Daniel boomed.

"Wh – what?" Reid glanced at the swiftly draining hole in the girl's abdomen and then back at the man.

"You – you said – you called him 'Dr.'." Daniel cried, turning to Morgan andthen back to Reid. "You're a doctor. Fix her!"

"I'm not – I'm not that kind of doctor. I have –"

"Just do it!"

"Okay, okay," Reid knelt down over the gasping girl and examined the crimson stain carefully. "I – I need some water and bandages – or a – a cloth. Please, I need to try and stop the bleeding. Do you have a – uh – pliers or tweezers or something?"

"Don't you try anything funny while I'm gone or I'll kill your friend, I will." Daniel grunted and quickly turned for the kitchen.

"Reid –" Morgan hissed, staring wide-eyed at his teammate.

"I know, but I have to get the bullet out. It could travel to an organ and then –"

"You can't do that. You're not a doctor Reid."

"What would do?" Reid gave his friend an unusual hard glance. "You always play the hero. You'd pull that out with your bear hands if you had to."

Morgan quickly disregarded Spencer's attitude as neither of them were in much of a position to possess any patience.

"Reid, just run. Get out of here."

"I do that and he kills you and she dies. Besides, I'm not much in a condition to be running anywhere. No, I – I have to stay. I'm not leaving you."

"For such a smart kid, you can be real dumb sometimes," Morgan shook his head and shifted his focus to the shaking girl. "Laurie," he whispered, "what were you doing?"

"I wanted – I wanted to make sure you were – okay. I got – in the walls, but there was no way out. He's – he's got everything except the front door nailed shut."

"Where's your son?" Morgan prompted softly.

"I – I hid him –" her voice was cut short by a fit of small coughs.

"He can't think he's gone," Morgan nodded to Reid. "That kid is the only thing keeping this delusion alive. If Daniel thinks he's gone, he won't care about Laurie anymore. He'll let her just bleed to death or – he'll kill her."


	29. Priorities

" _Where's your son?" Morgan prompted softly._

" _I – I hid him –" her voice was cut short by a fit of small coughs._

" _He can't think he's gone," Morgan nodded to Reid. "That kid is the only thing keeping this delusion alive. If Daniel thinks he's gone, he won't care about Laurie anymore. He'll let her just bleed to death or – he'll kill her."_

Spencer had been deducing the same theory as he had gone over the facts of the case countless times as he had been confined. Their conversation swiftly ended as their capture reentered the room. Daniel dropped the supplies next to Reid and returned to pointing his rifle at the agent's head.

"Now," Daniel commanded, "fix her."

Reid took the glass of water in his trembling hands and held it up to Laurie's cracked lips. The cool liquid slid down her throat and she momentarily smiled to savor the feeling. She couldn't remember the last time her capture had given her water.

"Okay, Laurie, this – this is going to hurt – a lot. I just – I need to get the bullet out and –"

"Just – do – it," Laurie whispered through a coarse throat. "Do it."

Reid swallowed as hard as his body would let him and delicately picked up the pliers with quaking fingers. He leaned over closer to the wound and slowly slid the tool inside. He could feel the metallic object brush against the pliers but continually failed to obtain it. Laurie squirmed and groaned, biting her lip to contain screams.

"You – you need to hold – hold her still."

"What?"

"You need to hold her still so I can do this!"

It appeared as though both Daniel and Derek were taken back by Reid's outburst. Daniel promptly obeyed and began to hold down who he thought to be his dying wife as Derek looked at his partner with great respect.

"Hang on, Gina. Hang on, darling."

"I – I – I think I'm going to be sick," Spencer choked on his words and nearly dropped the instrument.

"You can do this, kid," Derek prompted, changing his tune from moments earlier.

Reid had been right. Of course, Reid was almost always right. Still, Morgan wanted his friend to escape and live. Right then though, he reverted his mind back to when he thought his friend had been murdered. This was their job. Laurie and her son were their priorities. End of story.

"No, Morgan – I don't – I can't –"

"Reid, come on man, focus."

"I – I can't get. I need my hands. You need to untie me. You need to untie my hands."

"And have you running off on me like some coward?"

"I won't run off, I swear. You can keep my legs tied up. I just – I just need my hands."

"I will not fall for it!"

"Untie my hands or your wife will die!"

Daniel stared down into Laurie's glazed over eyes and huffed. Without a word, he leaned forward and released Reid from his bondages.

Spencer feverishly went to work, desperately trying to obtain the cause of this entire mess. His hands quickly were stained red, the tool nearly slipping from his grasp in the bloody chaos. With a sudden cry of victory, Reid pulled the pliers out of Laurie's abdomen, and with it, the bullet. He tossed both items aside and grabbed the tattered cloths. His hands trembled as he continued to apply pressure to the unceasing bleeding.

"Why isn't it stopping?" Daniel demanded.

"I – I can't stop it."

"Yes you can! You have to!"

"No, I can't! Lau – your wife – needs a hospital. Gina  _needs_ a hospital. If she doesn't get to one soon, she will die."

"It's a trick!"

"Mr. Griffin, I am telling you the truth. I cannot fix your wife here. She is going to keep bleeding, until she stops and then she will be dead. I know that you love your wife, I know you do. Right now, she needs your help. Gina needs you. You are the  _only_ person who can do this.  _You_  have the power here."

Daniel frantically stroked his weapon, facing back and forth hastily across the living room. His free hand slid through his hair several times before he finally turned back to face the agents. He stared at them both for some time and then promptly spun around and nearly ran to a small table beside the door. He threw open the drawer and shifted through its contents. By the sound, both the agents had their suspicions as to what that box held. Their thoughts were confirmed as Daniel revealed a set of silver keys between his fingers. He enclosed them inside of his fist and approached Reid, gun already aimed for his head.

"Untie him," Daniel barked, pointing at Derek.

Reid glanced up at the man and then at Morgan curiously.

"I said, 'untie him'!" Daniel pushed the gun towards Spencer's face and he quickly obeyed.

Reid crawled across the floor and gradually released his friend. As Morgan cautiously stood, Daniel pulled Reid back towards him violently. The gun still aimed for Spencer, Daniel backed away from Laurie, throwing the keys on the floor.

"Take them," Daniel ordered. "There's a blue and grey truck out back. Take it and take my wife. Get her to a hospital."

"Why can't you go with her?" Reid prompted. "She'd – she'd want you there with her."

"No!" Daniel shouted in fury. "That's not how it works! This isn't how things are supposed to happen." He paused and grunted. "I go with you and you arrest me."

"No," Reid lied almost immediately, "no, we won't. We can't. We can't arrest you if you haven't done anything wrong. She's your wife. It was an accident. You – you thought we were trespassing."

"You're lying! You'll lock me up and take my family away from me for trying to protect them!" He steadied the gun to point directly at Reid's temple. "Go. Take her to a hospital. You have to save her. Save her and bring her back to me, or I will kill your friend."

"Let him take her," Morgan countered, "he's injured too. Think about it. You keep him, all you'll have to bargain is a body."

"Then I suggest you hurry!" Daniel refused the offer in rage.

"Reid –"

"Morgan, just go. I'll be fine," Reid lied, already feeling his strength fading.

"Don't be a hero, kid," Morgan warned his friend as he hesitantly picked up the keys.

Spencer watched in trepidation as his teammate lifted the bleeding girl into his arms and carried her out the front door. Morgan had been right. The bullet had only grazed his leg, but it was still deep enough to prompt significant bleeding. His body did not possess a spot that did not ache. His skull throbbed and his mind was hazy. If he had to endure another one of Daniel's rage-induced beatings, he just might not survive it.


	30. Afraid

"What do you think?" Emily questioned Hotch as they watched Drake shuffle his feet nervously from behind the glass.

"His name is Henry Drake. He's 28 years old and he sold drugs to Laurie before she disappeared. Not long before she went missing, they got into a physical altercation. A day ago he'd be the perfect suspect. But now, there are seven more women involved. That means he started doing this when he was twenty and he also hasn't lived in Dinsdale his whole life, which he has."

"Then why are we keeping him here?"

"Because right now, he's all we got. We need his help. He might know something or have seen something."

"Do you want me to talk to him –?"

"No," Hotch interrupted. "This guy doesn't respect women or even care about them. All he'd give you is insults. We don't have time for his games. I want you to talk to the girlfriend again. You spoke with her at the school –"

"And she was resentful of me."

"Maybe she'll open up now."

"Now that she's seen what a great boyfriend she was defending," Emily said sarcastically as she turned away and exited the room.

The small room was chilled, but dry. The air seemed stiff, almost heavy. Drake sat, slumped forward slothfully. He glanced around aimlessly, attempting to find some sort of amusement. All his eyes were met with though was simply more grey. It was certainly not the first time he had been in a room similar to this one, and it most likely was not going to be his last venture to one either. Everyone responded differently to their captivity. The sheer absence of color, of life, haunted some individuals that entered the room, while others happily enjoyed the void. For others, it was the waiting; the agonizing, deliberate unknowing silence. It seeped into every crack in the concrete and every fiber of one's being, crawling underneath hair and skin to achieve its haunting goal. With that lingering stillness came the undesired contemplation. One's mind can play devious tricks when angered or fearful. Some people begin to second guess their alibi, doubt their own story, true or false. Yet for others, it merely conversely granted them added time to perfect their deception. From a common bystander's perspective, it may just appear to be a dull and simplistic area with a floor and four walls. Truly though, it is a member of the team, it is, in itself, an investigator, a profiler of the individual residing inside of it. Sometimes that individual's reaction to it could tell a person more than the verbal interrogation ever could.

"How did you know Laurie Bridges?" Rossi asked firmly as he leaned forward, one hand resting against the table.

Drake neglected to answer and simply rolled his eyes in the other direction.

"You can talk to me now, when I just have you in here for questioning. Or you can talk to me from your jail cell when I bring you in for possession."

Drake shifted in his seat and rotated his jaw while his eyes averted the man looming over him.

"I sold her some shit awhile back."

"Why did you stop selling to her?"

"'Cause she stopped coming around to buy."

"Just like that. No harm, no foul? That simple?"

"Yeah." He shrugged, still looking away.

"So, you didn't get angry? It didn't upset you that you lost her business?"

"A little."

"A little? Enough to teach her a lesson? You know, I can get you on drug possession alone. Or I could add assault and battery. That'd increase your jail time. Off the streets, not making any money. Someone else is going to move in on your territory. There are truck loads of scum like you ready to step up. You're easily replaceable." As he spoke, he began revealing photographs of young women and placing them on the table to face Drake. "Or how about kidnapping charges? Or murder? You wanted to teach Laurie a lesson, set an example for the rest –"

"I didn't kill nobody!" Drake suddenly pounded his fist against the table and averted his eyes from the disturbing photographs. "After she stopped coming to me, I found her and yeah, I taught her a lesson. Big deal. I didn't kidnap her."

"Then help us find her." He paused and glanced back at the glass to nod at Hotch. "Shawn Summers."

"Don't know him."

"I think you do. I think all these woman have been kidnapped and murdered and there is a girl missing and she is going to die if you continue to lie to me."

"Sure, he bought from me. What about him?"

"Showed his picture around the neighborhood. He did more than buy from you, didn't he? You two hung out a lot, were friends. He was the little brother you never had. Oh, wait, you _had_ a little brother, that's right. Pete. What happened to him?"

"Shut up."

"He died, didn't he? How did Pete die, Henry?"

"I said, shut up."

"He was killed, wasn't he? The senseless violence and crime that you support with your,  _business_ , killed your little brother."

"Shut up! This has nothing to do with Pete or Shawn!"

"It has everything to do with them. You're scum, okay, I get it, but you're not a monster. I think somewhere underneath that person that beats up young girls and sells drugs to kids, you care. You cared about your brother and you cared about Shawn. Now he's missing. His girlfriend too. The guy who killed your brother never got justice, did he? Do you want the same thing to happen for Shawn?"

"What do you want to know?" Drake bit the words off coldly.

"Did Shawn ever talk about running away?"

"All the time."

"Did he ever mention where he might go if he did? Somewhere he might've considered safe?"

There was a moment of silence.

"I don't know nothing."

Rossi quickly noted the alteration in the man's voice and his rapid eye movement.

"What are you afraid of?" Rossi narrowed his brow. " _Who_  are you afraid of?"

"I ain't afraid of nobody! This is bullshit! I'm out of here!"

Henry shot his chair back against the wall violently and headed for the door, Rossi meeting him halfway.

"Get out of my face! I ain't talking no more!"

Henry went to take another step as Rossi shoved him back up against the wall, his arm bent across the boy's chest.

"I don't give a damn about your pride. A dog could smell the fear on you a mile away. There are five people missing, two of them being my people. You know how fast I could pin this all on you? Drug possession, assault and battery, kidnapping, homicide, and the murder of two federal agents. You wouldn't be able to say a word before they threw the death penalty at you. And even if you don't get the injection, you probably won't survive the beatings from the guards for the murder of two members of the FBI or the attacks from other inmates for murdering so many young women. So, you want to tell me who you are afraid of now?"

Henry sighed, releasing the tension from his body and Rossi stepped back. Without hesitation, Henry unzipped his baggy sweatshirt and threw it off, revealing an old wound that decorated his arm. The two were silent for a moment, both awaiting the other's response.

"Gunshot." Rossi guessed.

"Ain't my first time getting shot at." Henry affirmed. "First time getting shot at with a rifle though."

"A rifle?"

"Yeah," Henry sighed in defeat, sitting down, "there's this place outside of town. It's some old, abandon farm or something. Real big and not any houses around it so no one calls the cops. A bunch of us used to have parties out there. Now some old fool stays there. Went there with my girl awhile back and he said we was trespassing. When I told him off, he grabbed this gun and starting shooting at us."

"It wasn't a police officer saying you were trespassing?"

"Nah man."

"Did he identify himself at all?"

"No, just started shooting."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He thought we were robbing him or something."

"Has anyone else seen this guy?"

"Yeah. A couple of us tried to take the fool out. He ain't the only one in this city with a gun. The second we stepped on the front yard he started firing from a window. That's how I got this. I was lucky. One of my boys took a bullet to the chest. He didn't even make it back to the car."

"Did Shawn know where this place was?"

Henry simply nodded quietly. Rossi now knew where they needed to go.


	31. Illusion of a Desperate Mind

The sky was dark as Morgan gingerly laid Laurie in the back seat of the corroded truck. He had not even noticed the day come to an end and that night had taken over. He wasn't even quite sure it was the same day.

For a split second once outside, Derek considered finding some other way inside, a back entrance, a loose board, anything. He would slip inside and surprise Daniel form behind. Maybe he could search for a weapon first. If Daniel had found an ax, Morgan was sure he could find something sufficient. He loathed the idea of leaving his teammate alone with that murderer, but knew that it was the only safe option. Sure, Derek could spend the time to find a weapon, break inside and possibly take Daniel down. In the meantime, Laurie might bleed to death and the plan could backfire, getting both agents killed. There was no choice really. He had to do this. He had to leave Reid behind.

Closing the back door, Morgan leapt inside the driver's seat, firing up the engine and screeching off into the countryside. He could not help but look back at the decrepit farmhouse and silently and gravely fear for his friend. If anything happened to Reid while he was gone, Derek was not sure he would be able to forgive himself. Still, there were other lives at stake that needed his focus.

He continually glanced back in the rearview mirror at the moaning girl. Her own hand was now applying the pressure to the wound and Morgan knew that she was far to weak to keep that up for long. He quickly reached one arm back and clasped his hand around hers, adding to the needed pressure. His eyes stayed in the mirror this time a half second longer and an image caught his attention. He turned his head around briefly to obtain a better view of the items. Plastic bags lined the floor of the backseat; all filed with bags of chips, alcohol, and other junk food items. It looked like every item off the aisles in a gas station and Morgan suddenly remembered. He reverted his gaze back to the road and glanced up at the visor. A white edge protruded from underneath the flap and Morgan yanked it free. A teenage boy stared back at him in the tattered photograph in Derek's hand. It was certainly a school picture with the pale blue backdrop and the posed posture. There was no positioned smile though as the kid simply gazed at the camera with disinterest. Morgan recognized his face instantly and solemnly set the image aside, reaching back to again help Laurie. As he did so, the vehicle began to sputter and Morgan listened as the truck slowly died. Morgan slammed his free hand against the steering wheel as he attempted to restart the deceased machine. With a string of curses flowing from his mouth, Derek jumped out of the truck and hastily went to the back.

"What's going on?" Laurie asked in a daze.

"Nothing," Derek whispered, "I just got to carry you now."

"It's – it's hard to breathe." Laurie coughed. "Everything – hurts."

"I know," Derek spoke softly, "I know. Just focus on your son. Can you do that? Picture him. Keep fighting. Hang on for him, okay? Just, hang on. He's gonna need his mom so you got to hold on."

Derek's legs screamed out in agony underneath him with every step he took. In the black of night, all the agent could see were dim fields ahead of him with no sign of civilization, no sign of hope. As he was about to look back down in defeat, the corner of his eye caught a glimpse of something. Derek squinted, half expecting the image to have been an illusion of a desperate mind. Still, after a second look, they were still there and Morgan could have leapt for joy if his body did not feel like collapsing. The set of lights drew closer ever so slowly and Morgan questioned if they would ever reach him. He debated simply attempting to flag them down but was not willing to risk getting passed by an inattention or cautious driver. Morgan stepped off the road, bending down to gently lay Laurie in the grass. Swallowing his own pain, he returned to the street, this time walking straight to the middle, flailing his hands in the flood of headlights that was coming closer. He wondered if they would simply not notice his presence somehow and merely plow straight into his already aching body. That didn't matter though.

The small vehicle came to a stop a safe distance away from the agent and Derek hobbled to the driver's side. An elderly gentleman was already making his way out of the car and offered Derek his arms for support.

Hotch and his team were nearly out the door as JJ approached them, jogging through the halls.

"JJ," Hotch started, "we've been paging you –"

"A couple on route 74 just called 911 about a teenage girl on the side of the road. She's been shot –"

"That doesn't sound like our guy," Prentiss shook her head, "he wouldn't deviate from his pattern –"

"Unless something went wrong," Rossi interjected, "like two federal agents showing up at his door."

"Uh, guys –" JJ started.

"It's worth checking out," Hotch nodded, "Dave, Prentiss, you two –"

"It's more than worth checking out," JJ interrupted firmly, "the couple that called said that there was a federal agent with the girl."

" _A_ federal agent," Emily repeated. "Only one? Who was it JJ? Morgan or Reid?"

"I don't know. That's all I got. I didn't have time to listen to the call. I wanted to tell you right away."

"Alright," Hotch nodded and looked over the hopeful, yet concerned faces of his team, "let's go."


	32. Hold On

Morgan leaned over the gasping girl, one hand on her wound, the other around clasped with hers. He watched as her eyes darted and her lips pulsed as she clung on to life itself.

"Martha," the older man suddenly spoke, "get the blanket out of the trunk."

A white-haired woman who had been in the passenger seat hurriedly obeyed. Morgan quickly placed the fleece over Lauire's trembling body.

"Sam," the woman spoke softly, nodding at a shivering Derek.

"Son," the man leaned down next to the agent, "you should sit down, rest. You look terrible. I'll –"

"I'm fine," Derek mumbled, lying to the stranger and himself.

Before the man could protest any further, a sound erupted in the distance, growing quickly.

"You hear that, Laurie?" Derek allowed a sad smile to spread across his lips. "You're going to be alright. You hear the sirens?"

Laurie nodded, hardly strong enough to form words. A smile twitched at the edges of her lips but failed to overtake her expression of agony and sorrow. Her gaze connected with Morgan's until her eyelids began to droop.

"Hey, hey, hey," Morgan squeezed Laurie's hand firmly, slightly shaking her arm. "No, no. Stay awake. Laurie? Laurie! Come on, girl, don't do this to me. That's it. Open those beautiful eyes. Hold on. Just hold on. That's good. That's right. Hey, you're doin' great."

Morgan did not stop talking to her until the ambulance had arrived and the paramedics were at their side.

"Sir, we need you step back. Sir?"

Morgan could hear the voices of the two men ushering him away and it didn't take much force on their part to push him back. Sam brought Derek away from the chaos with a slight nudge on the shoulder and in a daze, Morgan went with him. It was as if his surroundings were in slow motion and everything began to spin. He could hear voices, but they were all far too distant to decipher. It was as if everything suddenly came crashing down on him in that split second. His legs buckled and he watched as the world around him shifted. He was barely aware of the elderly man's arms, guiding him as he dropped to the ground. His weight was too much for the feeble man to take on, but he managed to keep the agent from crashing to his face. His vision came into to focus as he hit the ground and Derek quickly shook his head.

"Are you alright, son? You should have one of those young fellows take a look at you."

"No," Morgan cleared his throat and steadied himself, "no, I'm okay."

Morgan vehemently denied his own problems, but noticeably did not decline help standing from the gentleman. Once to his feet, Derek noticed the dark SUV that had pulled up beside the ambulance and watched as his team hurried towards him.

"Morgan," Hotch was the first to speak, "what happened?"

Morgan's focus drifted from his team as the paramedics wheeled Laurie past him. Her frail arm reached out for him and Derek ran to her side. Her fingers danced across the breathing mask that rested over her mouth and nose. She feebly attempted to pull it off until a paramedic assisted her.

"You – you have to save him." Her voice was strained and desperate. "Please – save him – save – my son."

She suddenly began coughing and gasping and the medic returned the mask to her face.

"Her stats are dropping," another man advised, "we got to go."

"Laurie," Morgan prompted, "Laurie, where did you hide him? Where did you hide your son? Laurie?"

Laurie hands fumbled with her mask and then went limp. Derek quickly looked from the girl's hands to her face as her head tilted to one side and her eyelids fluttered closed. Morgan watched and listened as the medics shouted terms and orders at each other.

"Why aren't you taking her?" Morgan demanded.

"She isn't stable for transport," the man who had helped with the mask snapped, matching the agent's tone. "Now, back up."

Morgan slowly backed up as he watched the girl he had so desperately tried to save was now dying right in front of him and there was absolutely nothing he could do this time to stop it. He hardly even heard his teammates' questions surrounding him. Everything else was a blur until the machines changed their tune and one of the men spoke. They yelled a few more things back and forth and then loaded her into the ambulance.

"You coming with?" One of the shouted to Morgan.

Derek yearned to jump in and stay with the girl until whatever end came. He didn't want to leave her as he had left Reid, as he had left Dana. But he couldn't go. She had asked him, begged him to save her son and that was exactly what he planned to do. Not to mention the fact that he was not about to just leave his partner behind. Neither of them had ever spoken their feelings or affirmed the truth they both internally knew. Reid and Morgan were more than coworkers, more than teammates, even more than friends. They were brothers. They had shared too much, spent far too many hours together, and sacrificed for each other too many times for their relationship to be described as anything less. Reid was his family and Morgan didn't turn his back on his family.

Morgan turned to his team just as Hotch's phone rang. He quickly opened the device and turned it on speaker after seeing who it was.

"Garcia –"

"Sir, like I told you before, I've been searching everywhere, through everything. Anything to help."

"We –"

"And I know that you're working super hard to find my boys –"

"Garcia, Morg –"

"– and I think I found something," Garcia nearly sung as she frantically typed away. "One week before Gina Griffin's death, a man by the name of Donald Gates was brought in for questioning after his  _pregnant_ wife, Luanne, was admitted to the hospital. A neighbor called the police after hearing commotion next door. When they got there, the wife was knocked unconscious on the living room floor, having fallen down the stairs. The husband was upstairs, having been stabbed in the arm. The husband claimed that someone broke into their home in the middle of the night. His wife had been up and walking around because she couldn't sleep. Some of their possessions were stolen and there was evidence of a break in. Police got suspicious though after doctors discovered old bruising and x-rays showed she had endured several broken bones over the years. The wife denied everything and when social services got involved, the couple fled the city."

"That explains why he was so convinced we were going to take his family away. He never talked about jail, but said that we were going to take them away."

There was an obvious gasp on the other end of the line as Morgan finished speaking.

"Derek?" Penelope's voice was the size of a mouse and she was hesitant to even ask.

"Yeah, baby girl," Morgan sighed with a grin, "it's me."

"Derek Morgan! You tell me when you are rescued the minute you can! Here I was thinking about all these terrible things and where you were and if you were even alive and wondering if I was ever going to see my best friend again! Are you okay? Did you get him? Where's Reid?"

There was a silence on both ends and Morgan listed as Garcia struggled to speak.

"Reid – he's not – I mean – he's okay too, right?"

Morgan's teammates' eyes all rested on him as they too awaited his response.

"Daniel Griffin took him." Derek ground his teeth with his words. "Leverage. He let Laurie go to the hospital, but we have to give her back to him after – if she's even alive."

"He's gonna be okay, though right? You guys are going to pull some amazing plan out of the air at the last minute like you always do and everything's going to be okay."


	33. Rampage

Reid sat alone in the living room that, moments ago, had been filled with chaos. He stared blankly at the crimson stain that now decorated the antique carpet. The same blood that had seeped its way into the worn and aged fibers of the rug, also covered Spencer. His wrists and hands appeared as if he was wearing scarlet gloves and the front of his buttoned and once mauve shirt cast the illusion that Reid himself had been shot in the abdomen.

He had briefly entertained the idea of making a break, or rather, a crawl, for the door after Daniel had left the room. He knew fully well that with his bindings he would not get very far. It was only a matter of seconds before Daniel realized the truth and came running back upstairs, malice the only thing on his mind. Not a moment after the thought crossed Spencer's mind could Reid hear Daniel stomping up the steps and braced himself for the oncoming rampage. The door slammed angrily and soon Daniel was back, looming over the agent, gun pressed up against Spencer's cheek.

"Where is he?" Daniel screamed in a rage.

"I – I – I don't know what –"

"Stop lying! Where is he? What did you do with my son?"

"Son?" Reid desperately attempted to sound surprised. "I didn't even know –"

Reid was promptly cut off as the handle of the gun came swiftly across his face. He could feel the warm liquid sliding down from the new wound, mixing with the old blood that already decorated that side of his head. Daniel pulled Reid up by the collar and then threw him down back to the ground. The gun shifted in Daniel's trembling hands. Reid stared down the barrel and at the downward spiraling man behind it. He mumbled, bringing his hands to his head. Without a word, Daniel roared and stormed out of the room. Reid could hear him hollering words of protest and grief as he tore apart each room, searching for his son. Spencer quickly saw his opening and squirmed across the floor. Propping himself up against the wall, Reid took the previously discarded ax between his legs and began running the rope that detained his hands against the sharp blade. They happily fell to the floor and Spencer feverishly untied his legs. His eyes found the door and every survival instinct inside of him urged him to run for freedom without looking back. The girl's words sang in his mind as he began to stand.

" _I wanted – I wanted to make sure you were – okay. I got – in the walls, but there was no way out. He's – he's got everything except the front door nailed shut."_

" _Where's your son?" Morgan prompted softly._

" _I – I hid him –" her voice was cut short by a fit of small coughs._

" _He can't think he's gone," Morgan nodded to Reid. "That kid is the only thing keeping this delusion alive. If Daniel thinks he's gone, he won't care about Laurie anymore. He'll let her just bleed to death or – he'll kill her."_

Reid glanced from the door and then back to the destroyed wall. He was certainly in no shape to go about the house searching for the child if her were to come across Daniel. Spencer doubted he would be so lucky so many times in one day to survive. Still, the words echoed in the agents head and something told him that neither he nor Daniel would find the boy looking through the house.

The gap was tight and dark as Reid struggled to work his way through the maze. The cramped space actually aided the agent in his search as he utilized the inside of the walls to lean on. He limped around wires and over dead and reeking animals. Spencer still failed to handle physical pain as well as some of the other members of the team but having been subjected to various severe beatings, getting shot in the leg once before, and suffering through countless other near death experiences, he had learned to take the phrase "mind over matter" to heart.

He recalled sitting in the grass, holding his bleeding leg with one hand, and pointing a gun with the other. He remembered the agony as the bullet sat inside of him, pulsing with every slight twinge of movement. Still, his pain was irrelevant. There were other factors, other things far more important that required his immediate and utmost attention.

His mind replayed how utterly sick and weak he had felt as he searched the scientist's lab for a cure to a fatal illness he himself was dying from. He remembered briefly desiring to just give up and stop fighting, but knowing there was far too much riding on him to do so.

All these memories washed over his tired mind in unison as Reid turned and crawled and climbed, following on his gut and blind observations. He reached an arm out to one side and felt as his bloody hand brushed through thick cobwebs. He quickly stopped and turned in the other direction. His only concern was if Laurie had taken multiple paths in the process of finding her way. His worries were suddenly crushed as a faint and beautiful sound pierced the silence. It had only lasted for a second, but for Reid, that was enough.

He charged forward as fast as he injured body would allow until his fingers caressed something soft instead of wood. He promptly wiped his hands against his pants and reached out for the small infant. The boy writhed in Spencer's arms and coughed, as if about to cry. Spencer closed his eyes, bracing himself for the noise that would reveal his location to his capture. Instead, the child slowly settled itself, nestling quietly in the arms of the agent.

As if all the adrenaline of the search suddenly released itself from Spencer's being, Reid crumpled down to the ground, the infant pressed tightly against his chest. His leg finally yielding to the pain, he simply sat there in the dark, having found the child, but having lost the strength to go on.


	34. Still Here

"His vehicle is gone," Morgan noted as the agents shrieked to a stop in front of the farmhouse.

"It could be a ruse," Emily pointed out, "getting us to think he's gone and then come close to the house so he can play target practice with us."

"No," Morgan countered, "maybe before he could have pulled that off, but not now. He's devolving. This isn't how he knows things to play out and he doesn't know what to do. He could barely think straight enough to keep Reid as leverage."

Hotch offered the signal and the team, along with several officers, cautiously approached the house. Derek was the first inside and immediately made his way to the living room, praying to find his teammate still alive. He listened as the rest of the team shouted to one another, clearing the building and regrouping with Morgan.

"He's gone," Derek sighed, "Reid too."

"You think he took him?" JJ questioned, all too quickly flashing back to the moment she realized her partner had been kidnapped all those years earlier.

"No," Morgan shook his head and nodded at the discarded pieces of rope lying on the floor next to the ax.

"Daniel must have left the room for some reason," Rossi interpreted. "Reid wouldn't have tried to escape with him right next to him and a gun at his head."

"What would make Daniel leave his only leverage for his wife unguarded?" Emily wondered aloud.

"His son," Morgan spoke slowly.

"Right," Hotch agreed. "If he is truly devolving and believes he could lose his wife, he would try to grasp at anything that would keep the delusion real."

"Except that you said Laurie hid the boy," Rossi turned to Derek. "If Daniel couldn't find him, he would become that much more upset and that much more disorganized."

"Reid must've known what was going to happen," Emily added. "Daniel left the room to find his son and Reid knew he wouldn't be able to and his behavior in reaction to that would be unpredictable and he most likely would go after Reid in revenge, beating him until he told Daniel where the boy was."

"He was hurt pretty bad guys," Morgan sighed, "he'd know he couldn't take much more from Daniel."

"Where would he have gone? There's no one in this house." Hotch observed.

"There's a shed out back," JJ noted.

"Officers are checking it out –" Hotch began.

"No," Morgan shook his head, "he won't be in there. He had a chance to run, but he didn't take it. He wouldn't leave me or Laurie. I told him not to be a hero this time."

"So you think he did run this time?" JJ prompted.

"No," Morgan answered again, "because there was still someone he wouldn't leave. The same reason I wouldn't leave if I was him."

"Well, if he's still here," Emily shrugged, "then where he is?"

Morgan stared at the destroyed wall across the room and went to speak when an officer rushed into the room.

"Agents, you might want to come in here."

The team hurriedly followed the uniformed man down the hall and into the kitchen. They were all silent for a moment, searching the room for what was so important. Finding nothing significant, Morgan again opened his mouth but was promptly quieted as a soft noise entered his ears. It was faint, almost undetectable, but it was certainly real.

"Where's it coming from?" JJ questioned.

"Search the house again," Hotch ordered. "Look in every closet, every drawer –"

"No," Morgan stepped forward, "wait."

Derek walked past his team and slowly approached the other end of the kitchen. Brushing cobwebs and dirt from the wall, the team suddenly could see what their friend was searching for. Behind the filth and thick spider's webs existed a small and square door. Morgan grabbed the handle and swiftly pulled the door up and open. The noise obviously grew, thought still soft. Morgan reached inside and tugged on the aged rope, bringing the shelf up and out of his way. He reached out his hand and an officer quickly handed him a flashlight. Leaning through the opening, Derek peered down the dark shaft. The light caught something briefly and Morgan's insides did gymnastics.

"Reid?" Morgan shouted down to the darkness and waited in silence for a response after several moments he was beginning to think would never come.

Suddenly, through the stillness, there rose a small and weak voice. It was strained and quiet, but Morgan immediately knew.

"Morgan?"

"Yeah, Reid, it's me," Derek shouted. "You got the boy with you?"

"He won't stop crying."

Derek allowed a chuckle at his friend's comment. Reid was never too comfortable with infants and so huddling alone in the dark with one was most likely both an extremely awkward and challenging thing.

"Just hang in there Reid, we're gonna get you both out."

Morgan watched with a large grin as JJ wrapped the whimpering child in her arms and carried him to the paramedics. Turning back to face the house, his smile widened as his friend was wheeled out the front door. Derek kept his eyes on the infant as he approached his partner.

"How you doin', kid?"

"Where's Laurie? Did you get her to a hospital?"

"Yeah, she's there now."

"And the baby?"

"They're gonna check him over now."

"Daniel's gone, he –"

"We know. Now –"

"I need to stay. I can help find him –"

"No, we got to get you to a hospital, man."

"Hospital –" Reid trailed off and then suddenly sat up. "If Daniel thinks his son is gone –"

"He'll go after Laurie," Morgan finished reluctantly, glancing back at the small child and suppressing the sick feeling in his stomach.


	35. Collapse

The caravan of ambulances, police cars and SUVs pulled up to the ambulance bay together and the team scrambled out. Morgan nearly broke into a sprint when a security guard headed him off.

"You can't park here," The man commanded.

"FBI," Hotch flashed his badge, "we need you to lock this entire building down."

As he finished speaking, there was an unmistakable crack that echoed from the hospital. The agents and officers sprinted inside as Hotch quickly ordered for the paramedics to keep Reid and the baby outside. As they entered the emergency room, weapons at the ready, another deafening shot rang out. Instantly, the team centered their aim on the man in the middle of the room. As their target came into focus, so did the woman he was holding. Aaron and Jennifer recognized the blonde doctor immediately as she struggled against the man's grasp, one hand around her arm, the other, hoisting his shotgun up into the air. Before any of the agents could speak, Daniel saw them.

"You!" He shouted, glaring directly at Morgan as if to slay him by his gaze alone. "What did you do? This isn't – it's not supposed to be this way!"

"Mr. Griffin," Hotch began, "I know you're confused, but you need to put your gun down and let her go. We don't want to have to shoot you."

"Just tell me where she is!" Daniel hollered. "This bitch won't tell me. So maybe if I kill her, someone else will!"

"Mr. Griffin –"

"My son is dead!  _Our_ son is  _gone_. I  _need_ to find her. I need my wife."

"I understand," Hotch continued, "but in order for us to help you find her, you need to let the doctor go."

Daniel Griffin shook his head and possessed the same expression that had covered his face several times in the past twenty-four hours. It was a look of rage and impulse, but also of twisted fear, agony, and confusion. Yet again, his delusion was collapsing to pieces, and along with it, his mind. This time, though, this time it was different. For what the skilled profilers of the FBI did not see, was that Daniel truly and utterly saw Laurie Bridges, and Dana Carter, and all the other women as his wife. Stephanie Miller had a gap in her two front teeth, but in Daniel's mind it never existed. A scar from a when a customer got a tad too drunken and violent had decorated Maureen Evans' cheek. Her capture only saw flawless milky skin. When Charlotte Wood had a miscarriage, Daniel was watching his wife grieve. When she cried out for her little boy or fiancé, Daniel envisioned his wife picking names for their child. When Sarah Skaletski's newborn daughter suddenly stopped breathing after 3 weeks, his mind adapted to the inconsistent timeline. When Bethany Borchardt and Stephanie Miller wouldn't get pregnant it took a great toll on Daniel's psyche. He couldn't handle the variation. His life had become nothing more than a blur. He only knew his work, his wife, his child, and the utter collapse of all three. When something else interceded or interrupted what he knew to be true, he started to devolve. Yet, when Laurie Bridges gave birth to a miraculously healthy baby boy and he stayed that way, it was like he was being set free from the delusion. He felt as though this is the way it was supposed to be all along. This is what he had been so desperately working towards, even if he was unaware of the previous women or the fact that he himself had murdered them. This was how it always was meant to happen and this was the only way it happened.

And then, two intruders walked through his door and into his fantasy, ripping it apart and sending him back through the cycle. He wasn't consciously searching for his wife to kill her, not really. All he knew was the overwhelming compulsion to find her, like a subconscious habit, pulling him towards her and nagging him if he failed to find her.

The human mind is a complex and wondrous thing that can surprise even the best psychologists or behavioral analysts. In the case of Daniel Griffin, his mind had completely broken apart and what was real and fantasy no longer knew barriers. Impulses went unbridled. Fact flew out the window.

This is the very reason why when Daniel Griffin looked up from Derek Morgan, his psyche wavered and his fingers trembled, suddenly covered in perspiration. The rifle slipped from his grasp and crashed to the tile, his hands falling to his sides. He couldn't move. He could barely breathe. His mind was cracking in half, but it felt to him as if the entire building was breaking apart with it. It wasn't until the doctor was pulled away by an officer and the team was descending upon him that the crazed man spoke. His tone was soft and a stranger might have even taken pity on him by his broken voice alone.

"He's alive?"

As Morgan made his way around the kidnapper and began locking handcuffs around his wrists, he glanced up and followed the man's line of sight. There, across the room and behind the glass door, an infant could be seen amongst the frantically working paramedics. The child's arm stretched out, reaching up to the sky and Daniel fell to his knees, repeating his question once more.

Derek spared no compassion for the bereaved serial killer as he hoisted the man to his feet with the help of two police officers. He forcefully led him away from the lobby and at last, away from Laurie and her son, fulfilling his promise to himself, to her, and to the woman he had loved.


	36. Safe

The private room was still except for the methodical beeping and panging of medical equipment and machines. Laurie Bridges was quite used to and fond of the silence. When it was quiet, it meant that she was alone. When there was noise, footsteps above her, gunshots that she was far too afraid to wonder at whom they were being fired, Daniel's screams as he beat or raped her, Laurie became terrified and found she sometimes was unable to breath. In the hours upon hours of silence, she could close her eyes and imagine she was somewhere other than locked up in that basement or in chains upstairs. In the chaos, there was no escaping the reality of her tragedy and torment. Yes, Laurie very much enjoyed the stillness of her room and was blissfully accustom to it. What she was not yet readapted with was the substance that filled this hushed room. It poured in from all directions and splashed against her skin and the walls, covering everything from the pale flowers on the wallpaper to the speckled tile. She took a moment to peak at the source and the sudden new phenomena stung her eyes. She far from minded the mild pain. She simply grinned, soaking in the pure white energy.

Laurie sighed in utter relief and peace as she rolled her head to the other side. The metallic doorknob twisted and Laurie instinctively tensed. Her mind knew she was safe, but there would still now always be that fear. A man that she recognized clothed in a long white coat stepped inside and offered his patient a pleasant grin.

"Laurie," he nodded, "there's someone here to see you."

Her visitor stepped through the door and they greeted one another with a warm smile as if they were old friends. It wasn't until she noticed what the man carried in his arms that her smile widened, transforming into an open-mouthed grin that looked as if it could turn into a laugh at any second. The man returned the gesture and made his way across the room and to the bed.

"Hey girl," the visitor spoke softly, "thought you could use some company."

He slipped the infant that had been squirming in his grasp into Laurie's arms and she let out a small burst of laughter, broken in her throat as if there were internal tears behind the joy. She stared at the child with a gaze that held the maturity of a woman twice her age. She was not simply a helpless teenage victim of a serial killer. She was not a young woman, broken down by all that society and life had thrown her way. In that moment, she was only a mother, strong, yet gentle, young, yet aged.

"Just a few minutes," the doctor ordered in a kind voice as he exited the room, "Laurie needs her rest."

The man nodded and Laurie looked up at him thoughtfully. She silently examined the man who had helped save her life. She glanced over the scrapes and bandaging on his head and face and then her eyes found the sling around his arm. Her gaze turned solemn and she hesitantly shifted her focus away from the agent.

"Hey," Morgan whispered, "what is it?"

"It's just –" Laurie sighed and reluctantly continued. "You're hurt – because of me. You're friend – or partner – was shot. I – I asked one of the nurses. She said he'd have to use a crutch for awhile."

"Don't worry," Derek shook his head, "believe me, he's used to them. That kid gets banged up all the time."

"But – I mean – both of you are hurt and all you were trying to do was help me. Those – those kids. They were my age. He killed them because the boy saw me. They're dead because of me. They – they didn't do anything wrong and now –"

"You didn't do anything wrong either," Morgan interjected, both firm and compassionate. " _None_ of this is your fault, you hear me? You survived a situation that most people wouldn't have been able to. You never stopped fighting, even with a bullet in your stomach. You kept your head and got out alive. And because of that, you got your son out alive too."

Laurie glanced down at her child and allowed a small smile to prick at the corner of her lips. Morgan stared at the girl in awe and swallowed, not desiring to reveal to her the next surprise he had, but knowing that it had to be done and would come a lot easier from someone she trusted.

"Laurie," Derek sighed, "there's something you should know. While you were gone, your foster parents – they –"

"They bailed, didn't they?" Laurie shrugged. "It's okay. It's not like I expected them to be out looking for me or anything."

"There are people who never stopped looking, though," Derek smiled, "The people from your church were still handing out flyers when we got here. Some of them are here, at the hospital now, or on their way. We'll figure this out and find somewhere for you to go. You've got a lot of people out there who care about you. Don't forget that."

"What about you?" Laurie narrowed her brow. "I heard what happened. You got Daniel Griffin. I'm safe. My son is safe. Your job's over, right? I can't imagine that you do this for everyone you save. So, why are  _you_  still here?"


	37. Brothers

" _What about you?" Laurie narrowed her brow. "I heard what happened. You got Daniel Griffin. I'm safe. My son is safe. Your job's over, right? I can't imagine that you do this for everyone you save. So, why are you still here?"_

Dana Carter's face flashed in front of Derek's mind and he quickly shook it aside. No matter how much she attempted to hide it, Laurie Bridges was still human and still fragile. Telling her about another woman that her kidnapper killed years ago would do nothing for her recovery. Laurie might also possibly the only reason Morgan helped her was to avenge for his fallen friend, not because he cared. Laurie didn't need anything to harm the mending of her body, or her mind. He cleared his throat and turned his head away for a moment. Laurie understood the lack of an answer and did not push the question. Another sign of maturity that Morgan silently applauded and was thankful for.

"So," Morgan smiled, "have you picked out a name for the little guy?"

"A name," Laurie whispered and trialed off. "It's funny, you know, I've had him for months now and never did pick one. I guess – I guess I knew the chances of us making it out of that house alive weren't – good. I loved him and fought for him and did everything I could to protect him, but I couldn't give him a name. If – if I did – it would – it would have just made it that much harder – to – to – I don't know, deal with it, to keep going. I thought – if I lose him now – if I can't save him, then maybe I can trick my mind into thinking he never existed in the first place. I saw – so many terrible things in that house. Some were real, some were in my dreams, and some I imagined. I guess, if I didn't give him a name, I could just pretend he was one of those things I imagined. A name – a name made it too real. Am I a horrible person, a horrible mom for doing that?"

"No, Laurie, no," Derek shook his head, "no way. You are an amazing person and an amazing mom. What you did, that's normal for someone in your situation to do. Really."

Laurie shifted and winced as she did so. Her gaze traveled from the agent and back to her child. There was a moment of silence as she merely stared at the infant, her eyes dancing with withheld emotion.

"Connor," she finally whispered and paused. "It – it was my father's name – my real father. When – when my parents died, I was just a baby, I don't even remember it. They were on their way to pick me up from daycare. When I was thirteen, I met my uncle. He never came to see me because all he thought about when he saw me was my mom. He was with them that day - in the crash. He was in the backseat so he walked away okay. I asked him and – he told me everything. Do you – do you know that my dad – he – uh – he held on. My mother – she was killed on impact. She never had a chance. But, my dad – he made it to the hospital. They knew he was going to die and he knew it too. But he wouldn't go. He wouldn't – he would let go until he saw me. Someone brought me from the daycare and he held me. Not a minute later – he – he was gone."

Again she hesitated. "This baby – he – he's the one that kept me going. I fought for him. He kept the both of us alive. He's stronger than I ever was. He survived when every doctor here said he shouldn't have. I want him to always know how strong he is, just like his grandpa. Just like my dad."

"He's got a pretty incredibly strong mother too," Derek nodded. "He'll be okay." He paused. "And so will you."

Reaching into his pocket, Morgan cleared his throat. "Look, uh, Reid is being released soon so I'm going to have to go back with the team. But, if you need anything, you can call me." He placed his card on the small table next to the bed. "I mean it. I know you've got a lot of support and everything, but going through something like this –" He trailed off and sighed.

Laurie nodded with a grateful smile as Morgan stood.

"Thank you," Laurie whispered, "for everything. I owe you and your friend my life – my son's life. Thank you."

"Take care of yourself," Morgan turned back as he reached the door, "and Connor."

Morgan allowed the doctor to slip past him and into the room before gently closing the door. He couldn't help but smile and sigh as he turned and walked down the hallway. His entire body ached, but his soul was lifted. He made his way around a corner and met the gazes of his teammates as they all crowded together as Reid was prepped to leave. Hotch, of course, was on his phone. JJ sat in a chair with a folder of paperwork, already back to work. Rossi and Prentiss stood against the wall discussing the abnormalities of the case. Morgan nodded at his coworkers and ducked into the room. He passed a nurse as she made her way out into the hall and was grateful to be alone with his friend.

"How you feelin'?"

"Feeling like I'm tired of getting shot in the leg." Reid responded as he finished buttoning his shirt. "How's Laurie?"

"She's a tough kid, she'll be okay."

"And the baby?"

"Healthy and with his mother." Morgan paused and eyed his partner. "Hey Reid, I know I took this whole case personal and I put you in danger –"

"Morgan," Spencer interjected, "it's okay. Usually I'm the one putting my own life in danger."

"You did great today, kid. You probably saved Laurie's life and you found her son. I get it, I took this case personal. I mean, every time I look at her, I see Dana. I imagined her, being locked up like that, him touching her, and I lost it. My head wasn't clear. Yet the whole time, you stayed level-headed. You got Daniel to let Laurie go. I don't know if I've ever heard you yell at an UnSub like that. I know you, Reid. You probably got the biggest brain and the biggest heart on this team. You always put everyone else first, the team, the victims. But today, today was different. I know why I took this case personal, so, why did you?"

Spencer shifted uncomfortably as he sat on the bed and fumbled with his watch as he worked to get it over his sleeve. He had hoped his friend hadn't noticed. He had imagined that Derek would have been too distracted by his own emotions and clouded head that he would not have seen the difference. He knew he should not be so naïve when working with fellow profilers. No matter how hard he tried to hide things, his drug addiction, his family problems, someone from the team always ended up knowing. He should not have been surprised Derek had caught on. Still, there he sat, mouth open, with no words pouring out as they normally did.

"Morgan, I –" Reid fumbled over his words and sighed. "When I first joined the BAU, I know you didn't like me –"

"Come on, Reid, that was a long time ago –"

"But – uh – we still worked together. Now, I know you'd never want to go to a Stark Trek convention with me –"

"Hell, no,"

"And dancing with – uh – girls – at clubs isn't my strongest point."

"Reid, you're not making any sense. What are you trying to say?"

"You're the only person I told about what happened to me in high school, you were the first person I told about my nightmares and you were there for me even when I didn't want you to be to help me through them. You've always had my back and there haven't been a lot of instances where I've been able to reciprocate."

"Okay, now you've lost me."

"Dana Carter meant a lot to you. I don't need to be a profiler or a genius with an IQ of 187 to see it. I understand what saving Laurie meant to you. I took this case personally, because you took it personally. I said all of those things because – well – I never really had friends that much – and uh – I never had any siblings. Everyone on the team knows that before he left Gideon was like a father to me. Well, you – you're like – my brother."

Reid shrugged and lowered his head. Sure, Derek and Spencer shared a lot, but it still wasn't common for the two of them to be so transparent with themselves or their feelings. The bond had always been there, even when they did not entirely get along at the start of Reid's employment with the BAU. They had seen far too much together and had risked their lives for one another too many times for the term "coworkers" to properly apply anymore. "Teammates" seemed to even fall short. No, Spencer Reid and Derek Morgan were brothers. Each of them knew that but it just wasn't something they talked about. Spencer utilized his intelligence and facts as a shield to hide behind and Morgan was too much of the typical man who neglects to discuss emotions.

"Well," Morgan grinned, " _brother_ , let's get you home."

Reid glanced up and returned his friend's gesture with a small smile of his own. Morgan waited as Reid propped himself against his crutch and the two started towards the door and the rest of the team.

"Oh yeah," Morgan stopped with his hand on the door handle, "and Reid, thanks for not listening to me when I told you not to be a hero."

Reid's smile widened and the two snickered.

"Anytime."


End file.
